


The Wall

by dodge62



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodge62/pseuds/dodge62
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An imagining of how Stiles and Derek might have found themselves in love... against a background of betrayal, black magic, hatred and demons.  What else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Derek watched from the shadows as Gerard’s droogs dragged away a hapless Stiles. He worried that if he rushed them, they’d kill the boy before he could free him. The building where they took him was a ruined coal bunker on the outskirts of town, crumbling brick and rusting steel, but sturdy enough for a tomb.

He rushed the heavy steel door with his preternatural speed, but they pulled it shut before he could reached it. He was sure hey hadn’t noticed him. He could hear the grind of the metal tumblers’ edges as they slid into place. He looked for another way.

Inside, Gerard smiled as Stiles was stripped naked and left shivering in the middle of a rubble-strewn room. To the side, a pile of bricks lay in a clumsy pyramid.

“Is this really necessary?’ Stiles asked quietly, his head lowered, his hands covering his junk.

“Your sheriff father will leave no stone unturned searching for you, Mr. Stilinski. Your clothes will serve as an effective drag to lead him as far from here as possible. It’s important that you examine your conscience without any interruptions.”

Gerard nodded and rough hands bundled Stiles a few feet into a small, seamless room where he was tied to a rusting overhead pipe, leaving him exposed to the giggles and stares of Gerard and his men. A wheelbarrow of fresh mortar was brought in. Stiles stared in apprehension.

“W-w-what are you going to do?” he asked, snapping his head around to look at the old man.

“Why, leave you here, Mr. Stilinski, to ponder your sins. The technical name is…”

“Immurement.”

“Very good! I should have known that a man of your obscure knowledge would understand what’s in store for him. We will brick up the entrance and you will be left alone to think.”

“Oh, God… Ah, for how long?”

“Forever, of course. I’ll leave you a canteen of water. I imagine that you will wiggle free of those ropes in a few hours. Without water you’d die in a few days. With water, but without food, you can last for three, maybe even four weeks, depending on how long it takes you to decide to chew off your fingers.”

“I don’t have to drink the water. I can pour it out.”

“Yes, but you won’t. Hope springs eternal, Mr. Stilinski. There’s always that remote chance.”

“Don’t do this, alright? We can work something out.”

“It will be an interesting journey for you, Mr. Stilinski. Perhaps one day, when they decide to tear down this wreck, they will find you, but I doubt they’ll understand.”

Gerard ambled over to the pile of bricks. He studied one or two of them and, finally choosing one, he drew an old trowel through the mortar and applied it expertly to the brick. Smiling at Stiles, he set the brick neatly into place, tapping at it with the end of the trowel to make sure it fit perfectly. Standing up, he admired his work and then nodded to the men who began to rapidly brick up the opening.

“Three layers with alternating seams, please. It needs to be as strong as it is sound proof.”

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles could feel the panic rising in his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“You are a traitor to your race, Mr. Stilinski. I can’t tell you how many times you have thwarted our plans, how many opportunities have been lost. But nothing is forever and now it’s time to pay the piper.”

“You think Scott won’t find me? Or Derek?”

“How?”

“Erm… how?”

“I’ve taken great pains to insure that you won’t be disturbed. It will be a few days at least before you’re missed. And then where will the search begin? We’ve left no clues. There are no witnesses. Weeks will pass. And how much of yourself will you have consumed by then? And your bodily wastes will attract any number of visitors: flies, worms, rats, insects of all shapes and sizes hoping for a seat at the table. The will to live can be an uncompromising companion, Mr. Stilinski. Up to and including drinking your own urine and eating your own tongue.”

“HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP!”

In time only one row of bricks remained to be set. Gerard held up his hand and the work stopped. He crossed over to the wall and peeked in through the narrow gap. Stiles was hanging motionless now, no longer struggling, only his chest heaved up and down with breathless sobs. Gerard was remotely moved. He turned around and leaned his back against the new wall’s damp surface. His voice became husky, as though he were aroused.

“Did you think it was all a game, Stiles? Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences?” Gerard laughed softly. “Silly man.” He turned and again looked through the narrow opening.

Stiles’ face was covered with dust from the construction. His tears left muddy streaks down his cheeks.

“Listen to me, please! We can…”

“Good-bye, Mr. Stilinski.” He motioned with his hand and the men moved to finish the work.

“PLEASE…”

His pleading was cut off as the last brick slid into place.

Gerard inspected the work, running his hand over the wall’s rough surface. “Well done, gentlemen. Where’s that bag I gave you?”

One of the men produced a canvas bag, something about the size of a human head.

“What’s in there anyway?” the man asked.

“I burned several logs of mountain ash this morning. The ashes are in here. They have curious properties! Sprinkled around the building, even if Scott and the others do figure out where Stiles is slowly wasting away, they won’t be able to enter…”

Gerard reached into the bag as if to show the men, but he suddenly blew the ash at their eyes. As they coughed and staggered back, he drew a pistol from his jacket and shot each one in turn, then he took another handful of the ash and rubbed it into the damp, still tacky mortar.

“And that takes care of that.” 

Derek had made his way around the building, finally finding a half collapsed escape stair running along the outside of the bunker. Vaulting onto the roof he noticed a wane light shinning up through a dirty skylight and from there he was stunned to see Gerard shoot his own men and rub the ash into the wall.

Now he crashed through the skylight, eyes red, claws extended. “Where’s Stiles?” he roared.

Gerard gaped at Derek, but only for a moment, then he smiled and shook his head. “Mr. Stilinski has used up one more of his nine lives. No matter. He’ll run through them soon enough.”

Derek pounced, but Gerard calmly blasted a handful of ash at him. Derek crashed into the bricks, coughing and gaging, rolling away from the man. 

“That’s all for now, Mr. Hale,” Gerard laughed. “I have to admit I’m not prepared for your arrival and he who turns and runs away, returns to fight another day.” He picked up Stiles’ clothes and, whistling, walked slowly out of the room.

It took Derek precious minutes to shake off the effects of the ash. When he could focus he got to his feet and tried approaching the wall. The ash stopped him a few feet away.

“STILES!” No answer.

He dug down into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

“Scott? We have a serious problem…”

Scott arrived an hour later with Lydia in tow. Lydia made short work of the mountain ash outside the complex, allowing Scott to enter, but the wall was another matter.

“Where is he?” Scott was frantic.

“Behind this wall…”

Scott charged the wall but the ash stopped him a few feet away.

“Gerard mixed the ash in with the mortar. We’re going to need a human.” Both of them turned and looked at Lydia.

“You’re kidding, right? I’m hardly dressed for demolition work… did you know there are two bodies here?”

“What?” Scott glanced at where Lydia was pointing and winced.

“They’re Gerard’s,” Derek confirmed. “He shot them once they’d finished bricking in Stiles. He didn’t want any witnesses.”

“It’s Stiles in there,” Scott said evenly, looking back to Lydia.

“What do you want me to do, Scott? Tear it down with my bare hands?”

“She’s right,” Derek muttered thoughtfully. “We’re going to have to get some tools and some more people. Then we’ll come back and get him out.”

“We can’t just leave him in there!” Scott was pacing back and forth in front of the wall, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“STILES!”

“I tried that. He can’t hear you. We don’t have any other choice, Scott. Common, lets go.”

They started toward the door, but Scott came up short and looked back at Lydia. “Are you coming?”

“No. I’ll stay here.”

“He can’t hear you.”

“I know,” said Lydia. “But if it were me in there, Stiles would stay.”

Scott smiled at her. “Do you think you can find something to cover those bodies with?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. I’m not completely helpless.”

“No, I can see that.” Scott smiled at her again and started to say something else, but Derek yanked him out the door.

Hours later the first layer of brick had been torn down and carried away by a small group of construction workers happy for a large cash payment for not a lot of work. 

“That’s enough,” Derek ordered, pulling a large wad of cash from his pocket.

“There still a lot of brick here,” the foreman cautioned. “We can have it done in a couple of hours.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek told him. 

"What’s in there anyway?” the man asked, glancing suspiciously at the half demolished wall.

“There’s 50 million is Mexican gold behind that wall, minted in 1846 to finance Santa Ana’s campaign against the rebellion in Texas.”

The foreman stared at Derek for a moment then broke into a wide grin. “Ok, I get it. Nothing worth a damn and none of my damn business,” the man laughed. His men joined in and started collecting their tools.

”Well, more like we can take it from here.”

The men looked at Lydia and the foreman smiled. “Yeah, I can see that. You’ll be alright, Miss?”

“Perfectly fine and thank you for asking. Their look is a lot worse than their bite,” said Lydia smiling. She led the men to the door. “Thank you again. You’ve been very helpful.”

As soon as the men were gone with the hated ash, Scott and Derek began pulling down the remaining wall. When they had made a small opening into the room, they heard Stiles calling out.

“Hello?”

“Stiles, don’t worry, buddy. We’ll have you out of there in no time.”

“Scott?”

“And Derek and Lydia.”

“Lydia?”

“I’m here, Stiles,” Lydia called out.

“Listen, Lydia… don’t come in here. Scott, don’t let her come in here.”

“Why not?”

“Ah… well, that bastard Gerard took all my clothes.”

Scott had to smile. “You mean you’re naked?”

“Yes, thank you, Scott. When someone takes all your clothes that means you’re naked.”

It took a moment for Scott to wrap his head around that concept. “Wow! That’s just mean!”

He glanced around the room for something to put over Stiles, but Lydia stopped him. 

“Stiles did me a service once when I was… well, indisposed. I’m happy to return the favor.” She took off her coat and deftly shoved it into the opening.

“That would be great,” Stiles offered. “Except I’m still tied up.”

“Oh, shit!” Scott blurted out. “Hang on one minute.”

Widening the hole, Scott took the coat and squeezed inside. Stiles gave him a weary smile.

“They really did a number on you didn’t they?”

Scott reached up and untied Stiles, then handed him Lydia’s coat.

“How did you find me so fast?” Stiles asked rubbing his wrists and then pulling on Lydia’s coat, which was much too small.

“It was a fluke,” Scott said, handing the coat back out through the opening. “Sorry, Lydia. Too small.”

“Oh… of course,” she said, looking slightly embarrassed.

Back to Stiles, Scott continued, “Derek was on his way over to see you, but he saw Gerard and his fucks pulling you out of the house. Then he followed you here. Gerard rubbed mountain ash into the wall so we had to go and get some help.”

Scott thought for a minute, then pulled off his jeans and then his boxers and offered them to Stiles.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Then go naked, Stiles, I don’t care.” Scott started to work his way back through the opening, but Stiles pulled him back.

“Alright, fine. But don’t expect me to wash them.”

“Just throw them away, dude. Ew!”

Stiles sighed and pulled on the boxers.


	2. Chapter 2

An imagining of how Stiles and Derek might have found themselves in love... against a background of betrayal, black magic, hatred and demons. What else?

Chapter 2

The hot spray of the shower eased the muscle ache left over from hanging off a rusty pipe for 4 hours. Stiles studied the bruised and broken skin around his wrists; the robe burns on the heels of his hands where he’d tried to pull them free. The side of his face still tingled, left over from the panic attack that had run riot over him after they’d finished bricking him in.

“Anything that doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” he mumbled to himself. He tried to make the thoughts of him eating his own fingers go away, but they kept coming back… the blood running down his face, the bones cracking and snapping, him snarling like a dog… a wolf. Is that what it was like? The tingling in his face and hands grew more intense.

He yanked himself back from the brink and turned off the shower. He reached for a towel, but there wasn’t one. He’d dropped it in the laundry on the way out that morning.

He threw open the door and walked into his room, but was brought up short by the sight of Derek sitting on the edge of his bed reading a magazine. Derek looked up at him, and then went back to his reading as though everything was right as rain.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles wondered, pulling a fresh towel from his chest of draws.

“I was coming to see you, remember?”

“Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“Why? You got a bigger name waiting in the hall?”

“Give me a break, Derek. It’s been a tough night. I’ve been kidnapped, stripped, tied…” he cleared his throat. “…tied up… bricked…”

Derek looked up from the bed. “Stiles?”

“Bricked in… and..." He was breathing hard now. "Derek, it was so fucking black.” Stiles tensed all his muscles to keep back the sobs. He dropped the towel and covered his face with his hands.

Derek was off the bed in a heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around Stiles and cradled his head onto his shoulder. Stiles gripped his coat as though he were afraid he was going to be swept away.

“It’s alright, Stiles. You’re safe now.”

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s jacket and cried as though his heart would break. Derek adjusted his stance and pulled the boy closer to him, rocking him gently.

“Come on, Stiles. You’ve always been the rock. Don’t do this.”

“Just once too often, Derek, goddamn it! One too many close calls.”

Derek led him over to the bed and sat down next to him. Stiles wiped his nose and started to calm down. He stared at his hands.

“All I can think about is starving to death in that fucking hole. If you hadn’t been there…”

“But I was there.”

“Improbable as that may seem.”

“Go on.”

“Everything I ever wanted to do, or try, or be I saw speeding away from me.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Well, like this…”

Stiles lunged at Derek and kissed him hard on the mouth. Derek didn’t pull away or show surprise, he just let Stiles explore. When Stiles was finished he settled back and looked sheepishly back down at his hands.

“How long have you been wanting to do that?”

“Not long. But, you know, I’m naked, you’re here…”

Derek looked at him for a minute and then nodded slowly. He stood up and pulled off his jacket and shirt, and then sat back down next to Stiles. He moved his hand behind Stiles’ head, kissing him slowly and cautiously. His left hand moved down Stiles’ smooth chest and came to rest on the boy’s thickening cock.

Stiles gently pulled back. He looked down at his erect dick and then at Derek. Derek smiled at him. “Is this what you want?”

“Well, I’m hard…”

“You’re 18. You get hard when there’s a breeze.”

“True… But I’m pretty sure it’s better when you help.”

He started easing Derek’s hand up and down on his cock again and ran his tongue around the inside of Derek’s cool, clean mouth. He started to undo Derek’s pants, but he was hopeless at it.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, licking Stiles’ neck and shoulder.

“I’ve spent my entire adolescence practicing getting a girl out of her bra and panties. Now I’ve got some dude in… pants.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“Not what I meant." Stiles leaned back in and kissed him. "Strip.”

 Derek smiled at him and got up off the bed. He pulled off his boots and then his jeans and boxers, letting Stiles see him naked. “Ok?”

“Ah… Frankly, I was hoping for someone taller.”

Derek laughed at that and then pulled Stiles up onto the bed. He eased himself along side of him and started stroking his cock. “There will be plenty of women for you, Stiles.” He started licking Stiles’ nipples.

Stiles gasped as Derek ran his hand over the head of his cock. “You don’t think I’m gay?”

“You just don’t want to be alone tonight. Now shut-up and let me make love to you.”

“Love…?”

“I said shut up.”

Derek started kissing him again, slowly working down the length of Stiles’ body, his nipples, his solar plexus, finally going down on his waiting cock.

Between gasps, Stiles realized he was loosing his virginity to a man… to a werewolf. The thought made him want to jump off the bed and crawl across the ceiling to the door. But Derek was very thoughtful in his approach to Stiles, maybe because he cherished him so, this goofy, nerdy boy who never faltered in his devotion. This tenderness was impossible to ignore and it gently eased away Stiles’ doubts and fears. “Love is where you find it’, he reminded himself. He had needed love, the physical manifestation of love, for a very long time and, considering that, he realized Derek needed it too.

He rolled over on top of Derek and looked at him frankly and openly, something he seldom had the fortitude to do. 

“Yeah. This is what I want," he said quietly. Then breaking out in a wide grin, "Your werewolf ass is mine now, buddy. Understand?”

Derek only nodded.

The next day was cold, drab and grey. A steady rain fell, the droplets gently tapping against the window washing away the sights and sounds of the wall and Gerard and the hours alone. It was a perfect day for lying in bed, alone or with a friend… it was too soon to call him anything else. Stiles was propped up on his pillows watching Derek sleep. He wondered if what he felt was really love or if he was falling prey to Derek’s wolf powers helping him through a rough night.

Stiles played the remarkable evening back and forth in his head. The love making had proceeded slowly and carefully, neither one of them wanting to ruin the moment. Stiles was actually proud of himself, free of any regret that it hadn’t, in fact, been Lydia who had shared his first liaison. He admitted to himself that he had known for months that the two of them would never be together. He laid back down, content.

“You’re smiling,” Derek whispered from under a pillow.

“Yeah. It’s how I show despair.”

Derek grinned and snuggled closer to him, feeling Stiles’ slender chest rise and fall, listening to the slow, rhythmic beating of his heart.

“So why did you come over last night?” Stiles asked sleepily.

“Oh, that. I thought it was about time you had ‘The Bite’.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Two of our men are dead.” Chris Argent stood stonily in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Oh? Where?” Gerard asked, carefully spooning fresh hollandaise over his eggs benedict

“At the old coal bunker.”

“That’s too bad. Do we know who’s responsible?”

“I think so. I found these in the back of your car.” Chris unceremoniously dumped a paper bag full of Stiles clothes on the floor. “Sheriff Stilinski is very good about sewing his son’s name into his clothes.”

“And the connection between Mr. Stilinski and our employees is?”

“Cut it out, Gerard! It’s not rocket science.”

Gerard grinned. “I thought young Stilinski could use some manners,” He sat down at the table, smelled his eggs, took a sip of fresh coffee and smiled at his son. “Will you join me?”

“What went wrong? You tried to brick him up, didn’t you? The kid isn’t even a werewolf.”

“Oh, I know, the code! When you first came here there were two werewolves: Derek and Scott. Then later you found out that Peter Hale was still alive, but Stiles and Jackson turned him into a weenie roast… Stiles and Jackson, notice, with a little help from Allison… so I won’t count him. How many are there now?”

“That’s besides the point!”

“That is precisely the point! There are now seven werewolves in Beacon Hills that we know of. Given that the jury is still out on Lydia, there may be eight! And what have we to show for this… this proliferation? Kate dead. Victoria dead. Allison… well, what can I say? She was sleeping with one of them! We’re loosing, Chris. Badly. And it’s happened on your watch.”

“And your solution to this is to brick up the sheriff’s son and leave him to starve along with shooting two of our own men?”

“The men were expendable. As for Mr. Stilinski, think of it as a first step. It’s only a matter of time before he’s turned. I decided to nip it in the bud.”

“Then why not just kill him?”

“Too many questions. I felt it was better if he just disappeared.”

“Don’t give me that. You enjoyed it.”

“The re-enactment of a classic Gothic horror story? What’s not to like?”

“That he got away and two of our men are dead.”

“I hope you took care of the bodies. The less said about any of this, the better.”

“You don’t have to worry. So what’s the next step in your brilliant plan?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some breakfast?”

“I don’t want any breakfast. Now tell me what you’re thinking.”

“The Ulfhednar.”

“The… are you insane? They’re… they’re…”

“Vicious? Uncompromising? Totally unpredictable? I think that’s precisely what we need right now.”

“You are fucking crazy!”

“No. Far from it. There’s a full moon in one week and I want to take full advantage of it… Have some coffee.”

* * *

Stiles wandered vacantly up the stairs to Scott’s bedroom and stumbled into his best friend getting out of the shower.

“Hey, buddy! How’re you feeling?”

Scott wasn’t body conscious where Stiles was concerned and after drying off he wandered around his room naked looking for something clean to wear.

“I’m fine, thanks to you and Derek. Lydia, I guess. Otherwise, right about now I’d be wondering which of my fingers to have for breakfast.”

Stiles watched his friend sort through a pile of dirty laundry. He’d seen Scott naked 100 times, but now everything was different. He asked himself if he lusted after his friend, but clearly he did not. Still, he was aware of a deeper appreciation for his lean, toned physique. It was clear a door had opened he never suspected was there. He wondered where it would lead…

“STILES!”

Scott was completely dressed and looking at him with an expression of concern. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah! Okay! Just another day in Paradise, right?”

“Are you giving me a ride?”

“No, Scott, I came over here to rub your nose in the fact that it’s raining and I have a car and you don’t. Of course, I’m giving you a ride.”

“Stiles, what would I do without you?”

“Rip people’s throats out?’ Stiles thought to himself.

* * *

Beacon Hills High School was the usual beehive of activity this morning: jocks, nerds, socials, ships and freaks crowded the corridors, as usual; babbled their own slang to one another, as usual, made the appropriate signs and appellations, all as usual. He realized that he was sick of it all. He admitted to himself that he was in love and that changed everything. The rest of the day proceeded like black and white box camera snap shots.

Lydia glided into frame… perfect teeth, even in gray and sepia. He had a momentary urge to tell her everything, but she’d like having a new gay best friend too much. Better to buy her a puppy. Otherwise, concerns were expressed; assurances were given. She glided away like Auntie Mame doing the rounds at a dinner party.

Mr. Harris drifted in and out of focus, at an odd angle and badly distorted. Flash bulbs went off around his head then dropped to the floor with an annoying clatter. As dense as he could be, Stiles sensed he was still aware that something wasn’t quite right so he directed his ill-temper towards some other hapless student.

Gerard opened the door to his office, but stopped when he saw Stiles. The boy wondered how long he’d been standing there waiting for him. In black and white he looked nearly frozen, his breath a steaming cloud. One hard shove and he’d go over, and break into a million ice cubes.

Coach Finstock lumbered around oblivious, stared at him (click), then stared at him again (click), then asked him if he knew where Greenburg was. Danny stopped and smiled… what was that about? Maybe gaydar did exist.

Jackson suddenly filled the frame. “Stilinski, what the fuck are you doing?”

Stiles wondered the same thing, wondered how he’d gotten onto the field. He checked to make sure he hadn’t forgotten to put on a uniform.

Naked teammates crowded into the showers around him like a Boy Meets World wet dream.

* * *

After making lame excuses and dropping off Scott, his hands developed a mind of their own and in spite of his best efforts he found himself parked in front of Derek’s loft. The door was open so he let himself in. Derek was cleaning the kitchen and smiled before looking up… fucking wolf powers. Stiles had his arms around him before he knew it. He looked up into lively eyes and received a thoughtful kiss.

“How was your day?”

He wiggled out of his coat and kicked off his shoes and socks. He curled up on the sofa. Was this what life was going to be like?

“Fine. Different.”

“Different?”

“I don’t think I’m the same guy I was 48 hours ago.”

“Getting bricked into a wall will do that to you.”

“I don’t think it was that, Derek.”

Things were starting to slow down now. Photos went from black and white to color to color film. He looked around the apartment. Spare, masculine; clean but in the way a sailor’s clean, more scrubbed and polished than House Beautiful. Derek went on with his chores as though a barefoot Stiles curled up on his sofa everyday. He reached into the fridge and brought Stiles a beer.

“Aren’t you having one?”

“If you want.” Derek got a second beer and sat down on the sofa.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Stiles admitted, staring at the torn gold paper around the neck of the bottle.

“Do what?”

“Be ‘gay’ with you… be in love with you… I guess.”

“Is this what you want?”

“Stop asking me that, Derek. I’m here.”

“Then just follow your gut.”

Stiles looked at him for a moment, then shifted so that he was leaning against him. Derek laughed and put down his beer so that he could put his arms around him.

“See? Not so bad.”

“Does it always happen this fast?”

“No.”

Stiles wondered about that. Actually, it hadn’t been fast at all. Two years of battles, wounds, beatings and heart break. He knew it needed all of that to break down his walls.

“Are you scared?” Derek nuzzled the back of his neck.

“No, not scared… panicked, anxious, terrified, but scared? No, not at all.”

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. To be honest, I haven’t thought at all. I’m being dragged around by my erections.”

“Just do what you want.”

“Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you that unbreakable?”

Derek thought about that for a minute. Then, “No. Just sure of you.”

“I’m glad one of us is.” Stiles moved around so that he was face to face with him. Dinner was so going to have to wait.

* * *

Allison studied her father surprised there was a subject he didn’t completely understand. The thought made her nervous because it left her dependent on the erratic Gerard.

“Ulfhednar? It’s Danish, isn’t it?”

“More like old Viking,” Chris corrected, rummaging through a pile of dusty books. “The canon is sketchy, but in their most down to earth representation they were fanatical warriors who wore wolf skins into battle. And they weren’t alone. There were Berserkers who wore bear skins for the same reason and the Svinfylkin.”

“What did they wear?”

“They were into wild boars. These battles must have made quite a fashion statement.”

“Sounds like it. And they were all Vikings?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, so you said in their most down to earth…”

“There are legends, myths would be a better term, that insist the Ulfhednar were actually shape shifters, demons who could take on the form of a man or a wolf. If a man was suspected of being an unnatural Ulfhednar they would split his skin down the back and see if there was wolf fur on the reverse side.”

“Sounds lovely. But why does Gerard wants to fight werewolves with… werewolves?”

“He’s unhappy with our progress… or lack of it. Are you going to be able to cope with this?”

“I thought the idea was to push the lycan out, not slaughter them.

“Your grandfather has other ideas and you know how difficult he can be. I want you to understand that the Ulfhednar are vicious beyond anything you can imagine.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“Only rumors when I was about your age. The problem with the Ulfhednar is that once they’re released they can’t be controlled. They slaughter everything in their path.”

“When does he want to do this?”

“It can only be done during a full moon, so in a week.”

* * *

“That was amazing!” Stiles fluffed up his pillow and looked over at Derek who couldn’t do anything but smile goofily. “If Allison and her dad could only see you now.”

“What about your dad?”

“You had to bring that up.”

“It’s going to come up eventually.” Derek rolled over onto his side and leaned his head against his hand studying the beautiful Stiles.

“Dad doesn’t care what sex I sleep with as long as I’m happy. He’s insufferably, wonderfully understanding that way. But sleeping with Derek Hale? That could be a problem.”

“Because I’m a werewolf.”

“Why would he have a problem with that? I’m sure it’s every dad’s dream to have his only son fall in love with a supernatural monster.”

“Easy now.”

“It’s an exaggeration, but it’s the truth. Dad’s pretty grounded. Half the reason he lost his job is because he could never wrap his head around anything more complicated than Matt murdering the swim team. There’s a pack of werewolves circling him and he’s totally oblivious. I don’t want him to get dragged into this.”

“Is he a deal breaker?”

“Don’t ask me that. I don’t know the answer.”

“And what about you?”

“What? You mean ‘The Bite’? “

Stiles got off the bed and walked over to the huge window at the end of the loft. He leaned against the wall and drew symbols on the glass. The moonlight described his naked form in sharp contrasts of shadow and light, a young man on the verge of letting go of his youth. Stiles’ awkwardness fell away with his clothes. Derek realized that at that moment Stiles had attained perfection; and in another moment that perfection would have passed. It was all he could do to keep from easing him back into bed and holding him there, loving him, keeping him safe.

“They’re not going to sit still for you and the pack, are they?”

Derek had to shake himself back into the reality that Stiles was concerned about.

“You mean go away and leave us alone?”

“Yeah.”

“No. “

“Jesus, Derek, it’s not like the old days where they had the support of the Church and the populace, and everyone was a true believer. What are they going to do? Wipe out half of the student body of Beacon Hills High?”

Well, Gerard might. But the answer to your question is no. But they could drive us out. Make it so uncomfortable for us that we’d have to leave.”

“But I could come with you, right? Even if I never had The Bite.”

Derek laid back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “I’m not sure.”

Stiles let go of the blinds and climbed up next to him. “What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

“It’s not what you think. It will never be easy for us; we’ll always be hunted. But without The Bite you’re an extremely vulnerable human. I don’t want to have to scrape you up off the street of some strange city. I couldn’t live with that.”

“So I should go.”

“I didn’t say that. And stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m ADD. It’s what I do. The Bite would cure that, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Stiles started laughing and snuggled up next his demon lover. Derek raised an eye-brow.

“All this angst over whether being gay is natural or unnatural… if The Bite makes everything perfect and if being gay were unnatural, then there wouldn’t be any gay werewolves. Right?”

Derek laughed at the logic and pulled Stiles down on top of him. “I think your theory requires more empirical testing…”

"Hey, test away. I’m all yours… What are the handcuffs for? Derek?”


	4. Chapter 4

Scott, Derek and Stiles sat on the sofa in stony silence contemplating the advantages of inverted time. It wouldn’t move backwards, of course. In stubborn synchronicity it kept moving relentlessly forward and so events had to be acknowledged and dealt with.

Scott was the first to face facts: “Ok. I should have knocked, that’s pretty clear. But when I saw Stiles’ jeep parked out front I just thought…”

“You were thinking?” Derek was sitting stiffly to Scott’s left wearing nothing but his pants. His arms were crossed and he was looking at Scott the same way Chris Argent had looked at him when he found out that he’d been sleeping with Allison.

“…that he might need some help,” Scott finished.

“So you body slammed me onto the floor?” Derek was indignant.

“And dragged me out onto the sidewalk? Naked… and handcuffed!??!” Stiles was sitting on the opposite side of Scott, also wearing nothing but his pants.

“Well… in the dark… and with the handcuffs…”

“Did it SOUND like I needed help?” Stiles was incensed.

“Well… you were begging him to stop…” Scott said, staring at the ceiling.

“There’s begging, Scott, and then there’s, you know, begging.”

“You could have locked the door!”

“You could have turned on the light!” This from Derek.

“Hell, you could have, like, just kept driving!” Stiles threw his hands in the air.

They all looked in different directions and then back down at the floor. It was Stiles who mercifully changed the subject, if only for a moment.

“Anyone want a beer?” He got up from the sofa and headed for the kitchen.

“Okay,” said Scott.

“Sure,” said Derek.

Stiles came back with three beers and handed them out. Then he stood staring down at Scott.

“What…? Oh.”

Scott slid over so that Stiles could snuggle up next to Derek. Derek wrapped his arms around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“This is definitely going to take some getting use to,” Scott said, shifting his gaze to the ceiling.

“Yeah? And why is that, Scott?” Stiles wasn’t smiling.

“Because you’re in love with… a guy!”

“Hey, I had to sit through Allison and Lydia… and Allison.”

“But you never saw me with a guy. How would that have made you feel?”

“Jealous.”

Derek started to get up… “Maybe I should leave you two alone to talk this out…”

“No,” Stiles said, taking his hand and looking up at him. “There’s not going to be any secrets.” Derek sat back down.

“Listen, Scott, I’m in love with Derek.” Stiles massaged the back of Derek’s hand like he needed to keep reassuring himself that it was real. “I’m as surprised as you… and maybe him…” he threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Derek and held his hand tighter. “I don’t know how it happened, or why it happened, but it happened and I’m not going to run away from it. I need it too much.”

“Yes, but it’s Derek!” Scott was on his feet gesturing wildly for emphasis. “There’s a whole different… reality… with him… and Peter and Isaac… I mean… don’t you get it? When it’s me, it’s just you and me. But with him, you get the pack and everything else. How is that going to work?”

Stiles watched his friend for a minute and took a sip from his beer. “Are you jealous, Scott?”

“No! I’m not jealous… ok, maybe a little… I mean, it’s not like we can double date… “

“We can double date… can we double date with him Derek?”

“Sure we can double date. Maybe he can ask out Chris.”

“I don’t think he’s into daddies…”

“Isaac then…”

“Stop it! If you won’t take me seriously, Stiles, maybe Derek will.”

“You have a point, Scott, and we have been talking about it.” Derek was wondering why he was talking about this with Scott when he hadn’t even really talked about it with Stiles.

“Does anyone else know… I mean… You’ve offered him The Bite haven’t you?”

Stiles and Derek looked at him without flinching.

“What did you tell him?” Scott was beside himself, glaring at Stiles.

“I told him no.”

“Well, that’s a relief…”

“For now.”

“Stiles…”

“What, Scott? What? Do you need me to stay a helpless 147 pounds on the hoof forever? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of you getting killed!” Scott was walking in circles. He looked around for a place to put his beer until Stiles took it from him and handed it to Derek.

“You’re not afraid of that now? Sit down.”

Scott sat back down and rubbed his face in his hands. “Now, you’re just Stiles. Everybody knows you. You’re not dangerous to anyone…”

“Except possibly myself. ”

“And you’re a huge help, because of that. You get away with things the rest of us can’t, but if you take The Bite, that all changes. Suddenly you are dangerous and the Argents will be hunting you along with the rest of us. It’s like your cover will be blown. You understand?”

“Yeah, Scott, I do, but Gerard kidnapped me and bricked me into a wall to get rid of me. So if that isn’t being threatened it’s at least being touchy as hell. And secondly…”

“Yes?”

“How can Derek and I be together as partners without it?”

* * *

Gerard paged through ancient Viking texts, so absorbed that Allison didn’t think he heard her come in. She stood in the shadows and watched his palsied hands carefully turn the fragile parchment. His hands didn’t use to shake. She wondered after the cause. His cancer? Kate’s murder? Victoria’s suicide…

“You’re wondering if my physical deterioration is due to the stress of our office or simply illness.”

Allison drew up next to him. He smelled like an old man, something she had thought might pass him by. He had the metallic scent of a dozen medications seeping through his pores.

“It’s a bit of both,” he said quietly, now that she was close.

“I don’t think you should call up the Ulfhednar until we know more about them.”

“What’s to know? And are you being as objective as you should be?”

“Are you letting your desire for revenge cloud your judgment?”

“Touché!” He looked at her affectionately over the top of his glasses. “You’re getting more like Kate everyday.”

“Dad said you tried to kill Stiles.”

“That’s right.”

“By bricking him into a wall?”

“Poetic, don’t you think? It’s been the fate of informers and traitors since the Roman Empire. Or would you have preferred that I had him hung, drawn and quartered?”

“Gerard, we’re talking about Stiles.”

“Gerard now is it? Your objectivity is compromised, as I suspected. You see Stiles as the court jester…”

“As a friend.”

“Why, because he’s like us? It’s only a matter of time.”

“Stiles?”

“Yes. You’re scrawny friend is more dangerous than you know. He’s a familiar. Do you understand what that is?”

“No.”

“He’s the human servant of a supernatural being, providing him with a cover and reconnaissance that would leave him exposed otherwise. His silly antics have cost us dearly and if you were the leader you should be, you’d have realized that by now.”

“By understanding him, don’t we neutralize him?”

“Perhaps. But you’re forgetting one thing.”

“And that is?”

“The ultimate reward for any loyal familiar is his own ascendency into the supernatural.”

“You mean…”

“He’ll take The Bite sooner or later. And if I’m correct… and I usually am… he’ll be one of the strongest werewolves we’ve ever encountered.”

“Stiles?”

“What did you come down here for, anyway?”

“To talk about the Ulfhednar.”

“What about them?”

“Dad… Chris… told me that once you release them, they can’t be controlled.”

“They are demons, conjured through the old religion, the werewolf’s mortal enemy.”

“Can you control them, or not?”

“I can.”

“How?”

“You needn’t worry about that. Leave it to me and by next week Beacon Hills will be werewolf free.”

“At what cost?”

“Nominal collateral damage.”

“They’ll kill them.”

“They’ll rip them to pieces would be a more apt description.”

“Along with anyone who gets in their way.”

“Yes. But isn’t it about time?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Hasn’t this gone on long enough? This charade? In spite of everything, the slaughter, the property damage, the missing persons, this town and its ridiculous sheriff have insisted on assigning the most mundane causes to the most outrageous occurrences. Isn’t it about time they had their noses rubbed in it?”

“Why are we here, Gerard?”

“You won’t trip me up with that. You’re here to protect the human populace from the supernatural. I’m here for that and one higher purpose.”

“Revenge for Kate’s murder.”

“And that supersedes all other considerations.”

“We’re supposed to be above revenge.”

“Are we? Learn to live with disappointment.”

* * *

“Partners? Stiles, it’s been two days!”

“No, Scott, it’s been two years. We were just too stubborn to realize it.”

“What about Lydia?”

“Come on, Scott! Did you see her… with Jackson? You really think she’s going to leave him for me?”

“What about your dad?”

“Leave him out of this.”

“You know you’re going to have to talk to him…”

Stiles was on his feet before Scott realized it. “I said, leave him out of it. Don’t you listen?”

“Yeah, I listen. Remember back when all this got started? How you’d piss me off so much? You even chained me to a radiator. Why did you do that? I might have killed you.”

“You know why.”

“Then say it.”

“I did it because I love you… and I didn’t want you hurting yourself or anyone else.”

“So, now do you understand?”

“Yes.” Stiles dropped back onto the sofa. “And fuck you.”

“What about it, Derek? You love him? I mean really, really love him?”

“I’d die protecting him. Does that answer your question?”

“I guess that makes two of us.”

“OKAY!” Stiles looked from Scott to Derek and back again. “So, we’re all friends again, right?”

“Yes, Stiles, we’re all friends again.”

“Great! I’m happy! Don’t let the door smack you in the ass on the way out.”

“Wait. What?”

Stiles was off the sofa again, his arm around Scott, guiding him toward the door.

“Don’t stay away so long next time! Love seeing you! We’ll have to do this again real soon…” Stiles pulled open the door and shoved Scott out onto the landing. “Got your keys? Say hi to your mom for me. Talk to you tomorrow. BYE!”

Scott turned to say ‘good night’, but the door slid shut in his face.

Stiles turned back into the room, grinned at Derek and started wriggling out of his jeans. “Now where were we?”


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles tripped up the steps humming to himself and let the door slam shut behind him.

“DAD?”

Sheriff Stilinski’s head appeared around the corner of his office looking both irritated and relieved.

“There you are. You had me worried.”

Stiles answered with his head in the refrigerator, taking fast swigs of milk from the plastic carton.

“Why would you worry? I haven’t been in any trouble…”

His father shot the refrigerator an icy glance from the office doorway. Stiles closed the fridge and caught his father’s stare.

“Ah… lately.”

He wandered over to the office and leaned against the door jam. The place was a wreck.

“What the…? Ah… spring cleaning?”

“No, no. I’ve been called up to Sacramento for a conference on all the unusual crime waves hitting northern California. I’ve been pulling and organizing files all day.”

“Oh. When are you leaving?”

“They’re sending a car for me in about 15 minutes. You’ll be okay here by yourself for a few days, right?”

“Absolutely! Hey, maybe when you get back we can spend some time together… you know, a father/son night out. Turn off the cell phones and just catch it all up. Just you and me. What do you say?”

Sheriff Stilinski stopped what he was doing and studied his son for several seconds.

“Are you in some kind of trouble, Stiles?”

“No.”

“You’re not failing a class?”

“No.”

“You didn’t steal the police van again?”

“Nope.”

“Haven’t crashed any gay clubs under mysterious circumstances?”

“Uh-uh.”

“And you haven’t moved Mr. Harris’s car into the cafeteria again?”

“Absolutely not! I learned my lesson the last time.”

“In that case, I’d be very happy to spend and evening with you, son.”

“OKAY! Hey, dad…?”

“Yes, Stiles.”

“I just want you to know I love you, okay? I guess I don’t say that enough. But I love you.”

The sheriff dropped the files he was holding on the desk and came up nose to nose with his son.

“Exactly what kind of trouble are you in, Stiles?”

“Nothing! Honest! I just thought you should know.”

The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest and studied his son for several seconds.

“Are you in love, Stiles?”

Stiles studied the paint on the door jam. “Well, kinda, yeah.”

The sheriff swept up his son in his arms. “STILES! That’s the best news I’ve heard in a very long time. Do I know her?”

“Ah… only in passing,” Stiles replied, gently easing out of his father’s bear hug.

“Well, what’s her name?”

“D…De… Debbie.”

“I don’t remember a Debbie. Does she go to Beacon Hills?” said the sheriff returning to his files.

“Ah…no. Well, that’s the thing, see? She’s already graduated.”

“An older woman, eh? Not too old I hope.”

“NO! No. Just one or two years.” Stiles casually fingered the files still on the desk.

“Stiles, I’m impressed. But here’s the question…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy?”

“Yeah. I’m totally… happy. I guess you might say erratic… I mean ecstatic!” Stiles picked up one of the files and looked at his dad. “Sterek?”

“You don’t want to know, believe me.” He took the file and stashed it in his briefcase.

“Really twisted, huh?”

“You have no idea. Listen, Stiles, I’m happy for you, son. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“No. Me either. It’ll be really… interesting.”

A car horn sounded outside. The sheriff finished loading his files into a large briefcase and quickly dug back down through his desk drawers.

“DAMN!”

“What are you looking for, anyway?”

“My handcuffs! I can’t find them anywhere.”

“Did you check my bedroom?”

Another icy stare.

“Not funny, son.”

No. No, I guess not. I’ll work on that one while you’re gone.”

“Well, if they turn up, just leave them on the desk.”

“Okay. I will… leave them… on the desk.”

The sheriff stopped at the door and looked back at Stiles. 

“I’ll be looking forward to that night out when I get back. Stay safe now, and, please, Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, okay?”

“OKAY! Don’t worry, dad. Everything’s going to be fine… As long as you’re okay with having a werewolf for a son-in-law,” Stiles qualified under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, dad, just me being ADD.”

“I love you, son. Never forget that. Bye-bye.”

“Bye, dad.”

* * *

Peter Hale sat quietly on the sofa watching a shirtless Derek pace back and forth while talking on his cell phone.

“NO! Oh, my God! You told him Debbie!” Derek was laughing so hard tears were running down his cheeks. “No. He has to find out sooner or later… Really? For two days? … Well, yeah! A nice change of pace, if you… No, I don’t mind at all. Should I bring anything? … How about wine? … Yeah. It WON’T ruin my figure, you’re so right!”

Derek bent over he was laughing so hard. Peter studied his nails, looked at the ceiling, worked on finding spots on the floor. Finally he got up and pointed with an inquisitive look at the bathroom. Derek smiled and nodded; Peter disappeared behind the closed door.

“I love you. You know that, right? … Ok, I’ll see you later tonight. Stay safe.”

Derek switched off and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He went to his closet, pulled out a clean t-shirt and struggled into it. When he came back to the living room, Peter was back sitting on the sofa.

“Anyone I know?”

“What? No. Just personal business.”

“You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“Jealous?”

“Ok. Serves me right for sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“What did you want to see me about?”

“Heard anything from the Argents lately?”

“No… You know that Gerard kidnapped Stiles, right?”

“WHAT? No, I hadn’t heard that.” 

“He tried bricking him into a wall out at that old coal bunker outside of town.”

“Bricked him up in a wall? Gerard certainly has an active imagination, doesn’t he? Who found him? How did they find him?”

“Luckily, Scott was on his on his way over to Stiles’ house and he saw the whole thing. He followed them, then called me and we went and dug him out.”

“How is he?”

“A little shaken up, as you’d expect.”

“Yes. Surely. But why Stiles?”

“No idea. What do you think?”

“There’s been a lot of activity out in the preserve. Men moving stones into a large circle.”

“What are you talking about? What kind of stones?”

“Granite. Big ones. The circle’s about 40 feet in diameter.”

“So?”

“Well, if Gerard were planning something unexpected, it might make sense to get Stiles out of the way first.”

“Stiles? Why would you say that?”

“Because Stiles has a way of always showing up at the right time, in the right place. And he’s very resourceful. It must be getting annoying.”

“Stiles?”

“Have you offered him ‘The Bite’?”

“No. Why would I? I hardly see him. Have you?”

“Yes. He threw a Molotov cocktail at me for my trouble, remember? Kids today.”

“Let’s get back to Gerard’s stone circle.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it and that’s what bothers me. Do you think Scott might be able to find something out?”

“You mean through Allison? I don’t know, Peter. Things aren’t exactly going their way.”

“Well, talk to him. It might be important.”

“Ok. Anything else?”

“Not right now. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No. Why?”

“I was just wondering if you’ve hardly seen Stiles why one of his t-shirts should be rolled up on your bathroom floor.”

“How do you know…?”

“His father has an endearing habit of sewing his name into his clothes.”

“I borrowed some t-shirts from him when I was hiding out. Remember?”

Peter studied Derek intently for a few minutes, then came up to him and pushed the shirt into his chest.

“It’s not carrying your scent. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it is for one of us to become intimately involved with a human, do I? They’re fragile. Prone to broken bones and ruptured internal organs. That makes them very distracting.”

“They can also go a lot of places we can’t.”

“I don’t think the one out-weighs the other.”

“Does it matter? Do you really think I’m sleeping with Stiles?” Derek began to laugh at the idea. “Stiles?”

Peter stayed stoic for a beat, then he started laughing too. “I know! What could you possibly see in the kid?”

They laughed louder and then their laughing quickly wound down.

“Break it off, Derek, before someone get’s hurt.”

Peter wasn’t laughing any more.


	6. Chapter 6

“What the hell is that?”

Derek and Stiles crouched in the darkened wood and stared in disbelief at the circle of rough-hewn granite boulders silhouetted in the moonlight. There were 20 in all, arranged in a circle some 40’ in diameter. Each of the stones was between 5’ and 6’ tall. The surrounding ground was churned up with the tracks of skip loaders and dump trucks, the deep indentations indicative of the stones’ massive weight.

“What the hell is that?”

Scott and Isaac had scrambled up to join them and they all stared at the circle, wondering what to make of it.

“I don’t suppose we can just write it off to the Boy Scouts or something…?” Isaac asked quietly. He was immediately riveted by the icy stares of his three companions. “No, I didn’t think so.”

“Who found them?” Scott asked. He wandered a few feet toward the circle but then eased back. “Mountain ash,” was all he said.

Stiles glanced at Derek and then carefully approached the circle. He followed the thin line of ash until he came back to where he had started. 

“It’s all the way around. Like they’re thinking one of us is just going to pick up one of these suckers and carry it home for closer observation.”

He ventured into the center of the circle. Derek moved forward to stop him, but Scott pulled him back. The concern on Derek’s face wasn’t lost on Isaac.

“Stiles…” was all Derek could get out before Stilinski noticed something on the ground and knelt down to take a closer look.

“Stiles.”

“It’s ok, Derek. There’s a ring that runs inside the circle with some kind of writing…” Stiles took a step back and began to meticulously photograph the inside ring with his cell phone.

“How did you find this place?” Scott asked again while they watched Stiles.

“Peter found it…”

There was a sudden loud, sharp metallic clank and Stiles jumped back several feet staring unbelievably at the ground.

“STILES!”

“There’s a bear trap buried in the leaves down here!” Stiles said looking panicky. “Whoever laid this out was expecting us. Mountain ash for you guys… and a bear trap for me. I’m so flattered.”

“Get out of there, Stiles. Please.” Derek was beside himself with worry, but every time he’d start to get up Scott would yank him back. Isaac looked around and found a large branch.

“Stiles! Catch!” Isaac picked up the branch and tossed it to Stiles. Stiles caught it and gingerly began to probe the ground inside the circle. He had only moved a few feet before another sudden clank caught hold of the stick. He straightened up and glanced white faced at the others. He held up the stick for them to see. It was now only a quarter of the length it had been.

“Stiles…”

“I’m almost finished, Derek.”

Stiles took the rest of the photos without moving from where he stood. When he was finished, he carefully retraced his steps back outside the circle. He smiled with relief as he came up beside Derek and playfully jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Had you going there, didn’t I, Sourwolf.”

Derek growled at him slightly, then turned to Scott and Isaac. “You’d better check around for trip wires,” he told them. “Someone’s very protective about this place.”

Scott and Isaac carefully scouted the route back to where they had parked. Each of them found trip wires buried in the undergrowth.

“We’re lucky we didn’t get sliced to ribbons on our way up here,” Scott growled, carefully cutting the wire he’d found.

“Ignorance is bliss,” Isaac told him.

When they got to Scott’s car, Isaac turned around and stopped. He tapped Scott on the shoulder and nodded back toward the circle. Derek and Stiles, silhouetted in the moonlight, rocked back and forth in a loving embrace.

“Is there something I’m missing?” Isaac asked.

“Not anymore,” Scott sighed.

* * *

Dr. Deaton studied the layout Stiles was drawing while Scott and Isaac printed out the photos of the inner circle.

“And you say you found this in the preserve?”

“Yeah,” Stiles responded. “The ground was all torn up from trucks and back hoes. It wasn’t more than a couple of days old.”

Scott and Isaac laid out the photos on the table. It took them a moment to match the order of the photos on Stiles’ cell phone.

“What kind of writing is that?” Derek asked.

“It’s old Viking, an ancient runic alphabet. You said the site was booby trapped?”

“Definitely,” answered Scott. “Stiles almost lost a foot.”

“And we found a bunch of trip wires around the thing,” Isaac added.

Dr. Deaton was quiet for a moment then left the room, returning a minute later with his laptop. He typed in a few phrases and then studied the results.

“Gentlemen, if this is what I think it is, this whole town is in very serious trouble and Gerard has finally lost his mind…”

* * *

The mad man in question carefully lifted a slice of apple tart tatin onto his plate and then lovingly poured fresh cream over it. He was admiring his handiwork when Allison came into the kitchen, flushed from the cold and damp outside.

“Well?” Gerard asked, pouring out a cup of coffee and pushing it towards Allison.

She held the steaming cup and took a careful sip, warming her hands in the process.

“You were right,” she said. “Two of the inside traps were tripped and several of the trip wires were cut.”

“No blood or indications of injuries?”

“No.”

“It’s impossible to keep anything from your friends for very long.”

“How do you know…?”

“Given the mountain ash that was spread liberally around the site and the two sprung traps you found inside the circle, I’d say that Mr. Stilinski came to call and he wasn’t alone.”

“Call it off, Gerard. If they find out what you’re up to…”

“It won’t make any difference. If Derek brings up his pack to try and stop us, it simply means that the Ulfhednar can be confined to the preserve, which will be better for everybody. Otherwise, my guess is they’ll leave Beacon Hills for good, which is exactly what we want. In that case, we wont even have to bother with demons and what all. Either way, we’ll win.”

“And if Derek and his pack are… destroyed… in the preserve. What will stop the Ulfhednar from sacking the town? Didn’t you say…”

“What I said is that I can control them. If Derek is stupid enough to try and fight us he and his pack will be annihilated. And if that happens I can stop the Ulfhednar in their tracks. You needn’t worry about the town.”

“Gerard… grandpa… you’re sure? You wouldn’t lie to me?”

“Not when you call me ‘grandpa’,” Gerard said smiling. He took a bite of the tart followed by a sip of coffee. “Amazing…” he muttered.

Allison set down her cup and started out of the room, but Gerard called her back.

“Since we’re so concerned about truth being told tonight, you’re not thinking about warning Scott, are you?”

“Scott and I aren’t as close as we use to be.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Scott was responsible for your mother’s death, he and Derek. Given that, would you really consider betraying your mother’s memory and warning him?”

Allison met Gerard’s gaze head on. “No, grandpa, I wouldn’t.”

“You’re sure?”

Allison took out her cell phone and handed it to Gerard. “See if you can find a Scott McCall in the directory.”

Gerard scrolled down through the contacts list. “Not here.” He moved his thumb over the face of the phone. “No photos, either… and nothing in the saved text messages. Looks like a clean sweep.”

“So, short of slashing the tires on my car or breaking my legs, I think it’s pretty clear that you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“You may be right. Now sit down and have a piece of this incredible tart with your coffee. There are some details I’d like to discuss…”

* * *

“They’re called the Ulfhednar," Deaton said. In Medieval times they were Viking warriors who dressed in wolf skins. They were notorious for their fierceness in battle.”

“So Gerard is going to play dress-up?” Stiles mocked. “That does sound scary.”

“He doesn’t have the legs for it,” Isaac added.

“I wish it were that easy,” Deaton cautioned.

“What do you mean?” asked Derek.

“The word Ulfhednar has a second meaning and I think this is what Gerard is thinking.”

“What?” asked Scott, obviously apprehensive.

“They were demons, summoned from hell to do the bidding of the one who summons them.”

“And you think Gerard is going to be the one doing the calling?” Stiles asked.

“Without a doubt. But there’s more. The price for doing the bidder’s orders is what the Vikings called a ‘wilding’.”

“That sounds pleasant,” said Stiles.

“During a wilding the Ulfhednar are given free rein to rape and plunder until morning, when they return to the underworld. How many stones did you say?”

“Twenty,” answered Stiles.

“Then you’ll have to face 20 demons. And they’re vicious beyond your imagination.”

“Is there a way to fight them?” Derek was considering all of his options.

“Oh yes. The bodies they require to function in this dimension are tough and resilient, but not indestructible.”

“And if we loose?” Isaac asked.

“They’ll rip the town to pieces… raping, burning, impaling… There are mentions of ways to stop them, but no details. Given their mythology, I’d say it didn’t happen very often, if ever. I’ll have to do more research.”

“You’re right. Gerard has lost his mind,” Stiles said quietly.

“When do you think this will happen?” Derek asked.

“The full moon. In one week.” Dr. Deaton replied.

“Then there’s only one thing to do,” Derek said standing up.

“And what’s that?” asked Scott.

“We have to kill Gerard.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you getting out?”

Stiles eased the shower curtain open and pulled a towel off the rack.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Derek said, smiling at him. He adjusted the spray until it was like needles and gradually turned off the hot water. The cold pounding forced him to focus on the myriad problems facing the pack… and his lover. Maybe he should just pounce. It would be better than Peter finding him alone some night. And then there was Gerard. If he was the leader he believed himself to be, wanted to be, he’d be out stalking the old prick right now, not lounging in the shower. But the sweet prospect of curling up next to his handsome lover trumped coursing down elderly psychopaths every time. Maybe once Stiles was asleep…

He stepped out of the shower and toweled off then walked down the hall to Stiles’ bedroom. He stopped in the doorway. Stiles sat naked on the edge of the bed drying his feet. He took his time, unaware that he was being watched. He examined the space between each toe, dried it, then examined it again. Derek marveled about him then, all those nights alone in this room while Scott was nuzzling with Allison and Lydia was making out with Jackson. But they all expected him to be there the next morning, whether as a supporter or as an object of derision. And he always was. Gerard and the terror waiting to hatch out in the preserve was going to have to wait.

He walked into the room and snatched the towel away from Stiles.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, wary of his werewolf-lover.

Derek just smiled at him, then knelt down and gently lifted Stiles’ foot onto his lap. He examined it, the carefully cut nails, the callouses on the ball and heel, the half-healed blister on the outside of the little toe, then he wrapped it in the towel and patted it dry.

“Ah… you don’t have to do that…”

Derek just kept smiling.

“No, really. I…”

Derek put down the foot and picked up the other one, drying between the toes exactly as Stiles had done. “Is there something wrong with wanting to dry my lover’s feet?’

Stiles didn’t have an answer. He had always thought that when the time came for him to fall in love, there would be love making and then there would be all the other times: cooking dinner, paying bills, watching a show. It never occurred to him that there could be moments that bridged the gap between the two.

Derek carefully patted around a pink and open blister. “I had a friend who use to say that you couldn’t be sure you loved someone until you had massaged their feet after a long, sweaty hike. At least these had the benefit of a shower.”

“Would it have mattered?”

Derek looked up into brown, inquisitive eyes. “No.”

Derek tossed the towel over Stiles’ shoulder and sat down next to him on the bed. 

“What are you thinking?”

“Probably the same as you,” Stiles looked up at him, smiling and vulnerable.

“What did I ever do to deserve such a beautiful man?”

“Ah…” Stiles grin widened and he turned a light shade of pink. “Not exactly, but don’t let that stop you.”

“Hmmm… Maybe, how did we ever get ourselves into this mess?”

Stiles folded the towel onto his lap and then folded his hands on top of the towel. He studied his hands as he spoke, only looking at Derek occasionally.

“Yeah, that one, but also my dad. What are these… what’s its… up in the preserve going to do to him? The Beacon Hills Police Department isn’t exactly equipped to face down a mob of howling demons from hell.”

“It won’t ever get to that.” Derek was steely in his determination.

“It’s just the fact that they exist, Derek. How is he going to cope with that? How is he going to cope…”

“With me?”

Stiles’ head shot up and he looked directly at Derek. “With us.”

“Let’s deal with one major upheaval at a time, ok?” Derek said, smiling.

“And Gerard, how do you think we’re going to get to him?”

“We?”

Derek got up and pulled back the bedclothes, then eased Stiles up off the bed so that they were face to face. Stiles was skeptical.

“You think you can turn off my over-active imagination by making love to me?”

Derek let his towel slip to the floor while nuzzling Stiles’ neck and ear. “Hmmmm… slow it down, maybe…” He eased Stiles into bed, turned off the light and climbed in beside him.

“You know that old goat is going to have, like, a gazillion guards…”

“Uh-huh…” Derek ran his tongue down Stiles’ neck and chest until he found a nipple. His left hand gently massaged the boy’s cock and balls. “And then what?”

“W…well… then there are the… the… Oh, my God… Derek. Seriously, where did you learn to do that? The… ahh…”

“Demons?”

“Yeah… mmmm… not so fast, not so fast… Them.”

Derek shifted his weight so he could gently kiss Stiles’ eyes and mouth. “You’re not worried about a few demons, are you? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to deal with demons…”

“You can’t, huh?” Stiles started kissing back. The demons didn’t seem as important as they did an hour ago.

Ten minutes later they didn’t seem important at all.

* * *

Isaac dropped off Scott, declining to come in, and left him standing on the lonely, foggy street, fumbling for his keys. He made a mental note to apologize to Stiles. He understood now what it was like to come back to a dark, cold house night after night.

He slowly mounted the steps and wondered why his mom hadn’t at least left the porch light on. He jiggled the light bulb and it blinked to life. She hadn’t forgotten him; the light bulb had.

He unlocked the door and reached for the light switch. The light illuminated the hall as well as Chris Argent sitting quietly on the stairs toying with one of Allison’s mini crossbows.

“AAAAARRRRGH!” Scott jumped back three feet and instinctively threw himself on the ground. 

Argent glanced up, smiled slightly, then went back to tinkering with the crossbow.

“I can see why the lacrosse team needs you so much, Scott. Those steely reflexes, that grace under pressure… attributes that are hard to find. Your mom working tonight?”

“YES! What are you doing here?” Scott asked, picking himself up and brushing himself off.

“Were you expecting Allison?”

“When I came in, did it look like I was expecting Allison?”

“Frankly, no, but I thought I’d ask.”

“You’re an asshole, Chris. Have I ever told you that?”

“No. I don’t think you would have dared. I seem to be loosing standing across the board.”

Scott studied him for a moment and for the first time saw a chink in the man’s armor. He realized that it wasn’t being shown to him by accident. He gestured for Argent to follow him while he wound his way into the kitchen. 

“Let me guess. Gerard?”

He yanked a chair out from under the kitchen table and motioned for Chris to sit down. Then he fished around in the freezer until he found a bottle of vodka and two icy shot glasses.

“Yes. Gerard.” Argent examined the bottle and was surprised by the quality of the brand.

“Were you expecting something bottled in Fresno?”

Argent smiled and held up his hands in silent defense. Scott poured two glasses and raised his in a show of brotherly, albeit cautious, solidarity. Chris did likewise and they downed them at the same time.

“Nice,” was all Chris said, then he folded his arms across his chest and stared at the table.

“So what’s up?” Scott asked.

“I seem to have a lot of time on my hands lately, so I decided to go for a drive.”

“At 11:00 at night? Won’t Ger…”

“No. And neither will Allison. That’s the part that hurts.”

Scott poured them a second glass and they drank it down. “We make an unlikely lonely hearts club.”

“Speak for your self,” was all Chris said. He gestured to the bottle and with a nod from Scott he poured them both a third. Glasses clinked and the liquid disappeared.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you a question,” Scott said, just a bit bleary.

“Allison’s off limits tonight,” Chris said quietly.

“No, about Gerard.”

Chris looked up and waited.

“Why do you let him get away with it?”

“He’s the oldest of the Argent clan. We’re not just here in Beacon Hills you understand? We’re what you might call an international corporation and he’s the CEO. He has a lot of power and a lot of authority.”

Scott blinked twice, letting that information sink in. Then: “So when he dies, you…”

“Allison. I haven’t met his expectations.”

Scott poured out a fourth round, but they drank more slowly this time, sipping at the brim rather than taking the whole glass in one shot.

“It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” Scott asked quietly.

Chris merely nodded.

“Any suggestions?”

“You could all leave. That would make the entire exercise unnecessary.”

“Chris, this is our home. None of us asked for this… well, maybe Isaac… but his father was locking him in a freezer in the basement, so I can’t say he was thinking clearly.”

Argent suddenly started laughing so hard that he had to set his glass back down on the table.

“What?” asked Scott, puzzled.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a gift for understatement?”

McCall smiled shyly. “No.”

“I take it you’ve been to the preserve?”

“Is that why you’re here? To find out what I know?”

Argent smiled and shook his head. “Scott, if this is like every other night in Beacon Hills, you already know all the details. I underestimated you from the start and now I’m paying for it.”

“Tell me how to stop them.”

“I’m on the outs, it’s true, but I’m not prepared to be disgraced.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Gerard told Allison that he could control the Ulfhednar. That’s news to me. As always with Gerard, he’s holding something back. Frankly, I think he’s gone so far off the rails that nothing matters to him except destroying you, Derek and the rest of the pack.”

“And this is because of Kate?”

“Yes. So, I’m suspicious of exactly what he has in mind. Unfortunately, we won’t know what that is until we’re hip deep in demons, so I think it’s time to level the playing field. You have been to the preserve?”

“Yes. Tonight.”

“You’ve studied it, appreciated its complexity, mapped its booby traps, its easy and open access from all the roads and paths in and around the preserve?”

“Yeah. Of course. What… are you saying, Chris?”

“Only this… don’t you think all this high visibility is very convenient?”

“Like… it’s meant to keep our attention… it’s a decoy?”

“Good night, Scott. Thanks for the drink.”

“Wait, wait…”

“Say hello to your mother for me.” 

The front door closed behind him with a bang. The resulting silence was ear shattering.


	8. Chapter 8

“STILES!!”

Scott streaked up the stairs and burst into Stiles’ room like a cannonball. He fumbled for the wall switch, then a blast of light flooded the room. Stiles peeked bleary eyed from under the covers.

“If this is going to become a habit with you, I’m taking away your key.”

“Stiles! Hurry up. Get dressed. We have to find Derek. I’ve been calling him, but he…”

Stiles pulled the blanket back enough to reveal Derek flipping Scott the bird while burying his face in his pillow.

“Oh… Hi, Derek! Well, that was easy. Common, you guys, get dressed! We have to go to Dr. Deaton’s office… You brought Derek home? What did your dad say?”

Stiles was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes and feeling around for something to wear.

“Dad’s at a conference in Sacramento. He won’t be back until the day after tomorrow.”

Stiles was on his feet now, pulling on a pair of boxer shorts.

“What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s 2:00am”

Derek had managed to sit up and was glaring at Scott through blood-shot eyes.

“Would you mind telling me… us… what’s so important that you have to wake us up at 2:00am?”

“Those rocks out in the preserve?”

“Yeah?”

“They’re a decoy.”

* * *

“He said they’re a decoy? Those were his exact words?”

Dr. Deaton studied the map of Beacon Hills laid out on the table along with the photographs of the stones in the preserve.

“Well, no. What he said was, doesn’t it seem like it’s very convenient.”

“And it is,” said the doctor looking at each of them in turn. “But that’s not the same thing as saying they’re a decoy. And what if he’s not telling you the truth? What if he’s leading you on?”

“Who’s leading us on?” Peter walked into the light from the storeroom looking as tired and frazzled as the rest of them.

“Where did you come from?” Scott asked, only a little hostile.

“I invited him,” Derek replied. “We’re in trouble, Scott, and Peter knows about these things better than anyone.”

“Well, almost anyone,” Peter replied coming up behind Dr. Deaton and giving his shoulders a playful squeeze. Deaton cringed, but managed to stay civil.

“How are you tonight, Peter?”

“Bored. What have we got?”

Scott quickly ran down his conversation with Chris Argent.

“What if he is just leading us on?” Derek asked.

“Quite possible,” answered Peter. “He’s on the outs with Gerard and this could be a way for him to score some points. On the other hand, what if he’s telling us the truth? Did we ever figure out what this was all for?”

“Judging from the writing Stiles found inside the circle, Gerard is going to raise the Ulfhadnar.”

“You can’t be serious.” Peter was incredulous. “No one’s tried to raise those maniacs in almost a century. And even when they did it was only one or two. How many stones are there?”

“Twenty,” Stiles answered.

“No. That’s crazy. The northern half of the state would disappear. They’re impossible to control.”

“Gerard told Chris he could control them.”

“You know anything about that?” Peter looked inquisitively at Dr. Deaton.

“No. But it wouldn’t be the first time Gerard knew something I didn’t. He’s not the leader of the Argents for nothing.”

Peter rubbed his chin and studied the map and photographs. 

“Suppose it is crazy… like an imaginary show of force, never intended to be used. If we draw a line directly through the site along a north/south, east/west axis…”

Isaac produces a pencil and Dr. Deaton tossed him a ruler. He carefully drew the lines Peter described.

“Okay, the Preserve sits up on the ridge south of the city, the highway and the power plant to the east, forest to the west and… to the north… the city graveyard.”

“This is getting really weird, guys,” Stiles said studying the map. 

“Like meeting with a group of werewolves and a…” Derek looked at Dr. Deaton, but he only shrugged. “…and a veterinarian is perfectly normal?”

“I am having trouble getting use to the veterinarian, I admit it.”

Everyone laughed at this and it eased the tension, but everyone understood that the situation remained grave.

“Suggestions?” asked Deaton. All eyes turned toward Scott.

“What? You mean Allison?”

“It would be the quickest way to get this figured out, “ said Derek.

“We haven’t talked in weeks… months!”

“Then this might be the perfect time,” Peter said.

“I don’t know, guys…”

“Listen, Scott, see what you can do,” said Peter. “In the meantime, Derek and I… and Stiles… will drive over to the graveyard in the morning and see if there’s anything suspicious going on. Agreed?”

“What about me?” Isaac asked, looking around the table.

“You just look pretty,” Peter said, winking at him.

Outside, Peter stopped Derek and Stiles. Scott came over to join them, but Peter waved him away.

“Let me have a few minutes with them, Scott.”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Scott said.

“Then you won’t mind if I have a few minutes with them, will you?”

“Don’t do it, Stiles.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake…”

“Scott! Come here, buddy!” Stiles called to him.

Derek was looking off into the distance, the way he always did when he was ready to explode. But Stiles put his arm around him and buried his face in his chest for a moment, then looked back at Peter. 

“I know what you’re going to say, too.”

“Then, may I say it?” The impatience in Peter’s voice was unmistakable.

“Sure…” Stiles said. Derek put his arm around him.

“If what we suspect is true, we’re all about to face an extremely dangerous enemy. A supernatural enemy. It’s going to be bad enough for the rest of us, but for you, if you don’t stay out of the way… and you won’t… it will be a death sentence.”

Stiles, looked from Peter to Scott. “Your turn.”

“I agree with him,” Scott said.

“So? Will you take The Bite?” Peter’s stare was empathic. “It’s either that or barricade yourself in the sheriff’s station and hope for the best.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I have to talk to Derek. Then we’ll decide.”

“This isn’t like picking out wedding invitations, Stiles. If he’s distracted, even for a minute, then we’re all in danger.”

“Gerard isn’t the only one with a plan,” Derek said. “It ends tonight.”

“And how is that?”

“I’m going to kill him.

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“I’m not sure yet, but…”

“This is going to be a disaster!” Peter yelled at him. “ You do what you think you have to do, but if you fail, you figure out a way to keep him…” he pointed a taloned finger at Stiles “…out of the way or the next time I see him, I’ll tear his throat out.”

Peter turned his back on them and stomped to his car. The squeal of the tires as he tore out onto the street could be heard for blocks.

Stiles looked at Scott and then back at Derek.

“So, I guess a trip to the Waffle House is completely out of the question?”

* * *

Derek didn’t say anything as they drove home and neither did Stiles. Both of them knew that Peter was right, but they had never expected it to come to this. But for the monsters waiting to hatch out in the preserve… or the graveyard… or somewhere, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

The sun was coming up as they pulled into the driveway and Stiles turned off the engine.

“Should I come in?” Derek asked.

“Yes. I wouldn’t mind it if you stuck around for, you know, always. But I’m too tired to talk much about what just happened. I just want to go inside and sleep for a few hours.”

He leaned over and kissed Derek lightly on the mouth, but then the kiss became deeper, even desperate, as he raced through all the decisions the two of them would have to make in the next 24 hours. He finished the kiss and, still holding on to Derek’s jacket sleeve, looked up at him.

“I love you.”

He leaned in again and hugged Derek to him. He felt Derek lean into him and hug him back, but then he felt him tense suddenly and he pulled away quickly, expecting he didn’t know what.

“What?” Stiles looked up at Derek, but his eyes were riveted to something outside Stiles’ open window. Stiles swallowed and then slowly turned around.

Sheriff Stilinski stood quietly with his thumbs hooked into his belt. A deputy, trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible carried the sheriff’s luggage up onto the porch.

“Would you… please… explain to me what’s going on,” said the sheriff quietly.

Stiles’ mouth opened and closed slightly, but no words came out. His tongue was thick and dry, and he took a moment to swallow and work up some spit.

“Sheriff, this isn’t…” Derek started to say.

“Not you,” the sheriff said. Then he pointed at Stiles. “Him.”

Stiles looked up at him again and took a deep breath. 

“Dad… I’d like you to meet Debbie.”


	9. Chapter 9

For a few moments no one moved. Stiles found himself sandwiched between the two men he loved most in the world. Now he was going to have to make a decision. Though he didn’t show it very often, Stiles’ love for his father was unconditional, primarily because he knew that’s how his father loved him. But his love for Derek was sexual, unexplored and essential to his humanity. How was he ever going to reconcile these two extremes?

“Why don’t you come inside?” Sheriff Stalinski asked quietly.

“You… you mean both of us?”

“Yes, Stiles, that’s what I mean.”

The Sheriff thanked the deputy and then picked up his luggage from the porch and walked into the house.

Stiles looked at Derek and then took his hand.

“Now’s your chance, Sourwolf. If you want to go back to being a loner, now’s the time.”

“Frankly, I’d rather face a graveyard fill of demons.”

He leaned over and kissed Stiles gently, then ran his hand through his hair.

“Let’s go.”

The Sheriff was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. Two cups were set out on the counter.

“What about me?” Stiles asked looking from the cups to his father and back again.

“Like you need caffeine. I want to talk to Derek privately for a few minutes. Do you mind?”

“Well, yeah, I do… I mean, you guys are going to be okay?”

“And if we’re not, you’re going to do what, exactly?”

“Ah… I’m not sure. Throw my frail body between you both and hope for the best? Derek?”

“Sheriff, I think that whatever you have to say can be said to both of us.”

“And I don’t. A little courtesy considering what came my way this morning?”

“That was completely by accident,” Stiles said quietly. “What are you doing home…”

“Still, you brought a stranger into my home and I’d like to ask him a few questions. Please, son. It’s only for a few minutes”

Stiles looked at Derek and after a slight pause, Derek nodded and smiled.

“Ok! Well, I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

“Thank you, Stiles. It’ll be fine.”

“Ok, so… I’ll be… out here…” Stiles took one more quick look at both of them. “Have a good chat.”

He pulled the swinging kitchen door shut behind him and when he was gone Derek realized that he had never felt so completely alone in his life.

The Sheriff folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter.

“He’s all I have.”

“I realize that.”

“Do you love him?”

“Like my life.”

“I want you to understand something. Stiles, you know, he wants to protect me from everything bad that’s out there. And by that I mean all the supernatural events that have been going on over the last 3 years.”

Derek was suddenly all ears. “You… you know about… How much do you know?”

“Probably not every detail, but enough. I knew about the Argents when they came to town, the Kanima and I knew the Hale fire wasn’t an accident.”

“He thinks…”

“I know. It’s been a chore playing dumb with him, while trying to stay one step ahead of what he knows, or at least what I think he knows.”

“To protect him.”

“That’s right. You may have noticed that he jumps first and looks second.”

The coffee pot started to sputter and steam. The Sheriff took the pot off the stove and motioned to Derek, who nodded and stepped closer to the table. Derek took the offered cup and took a sip, then a bigger one. He knew he was worked and facing Stiles dad wasn’t helping, but the coffee was good and he started to relax a little.

“So what do you know, or want to know, about me?”

“Whatever you want to tell me. I just want you to understand that I’m… ok with this as long as you help me keep Stiles safe.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

Derek crossed casually to the kitchen door and yanked it open. Stiles fell into the room, catching himself on the door jam at the last second. He threw Derek an annoyed look, but whether it was because he had betrayed him or failed to catch him, Derek couldn’t be sure.

“I was just noticing that door needs a coat of paint,” Stiles said looking from one to the other. Neither of the men responded with anything but neutral looks.

“So, yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

“I believe that Derek and I have come to an understanding, but I want you to understand something,” the Sheriff said, fixing his son with an even stare.

“Ok,” Stiles said, trying to hold his father’s gaze, but failing.

“No more lies. Is that clear?”

“Hey, dad, I…” Stiles looked at Derek who was as implacable as his father. “Yes. That’s clear.”

“I could try to forbid you sticking your nose into everything that happens around here, but you’d just do it anyway.”

“You’re right, dad. I probably would. But I want you to know that I’d hate myself for doing it.”

The Sheriff smiled at his son and finished his coffee. “Smart ass,” he mumbled to himself and started out of the room.

“Wait, wait. Where are you going?”

“To the office. I found out what I wanted to know.” He glanced over to Derek, his eyes giving away perhaps more than he wished. “You’re welcome here, Derek, as long as we understand one another.”

“I think we understand each other perfectly, Sheriff.”

“This is going to be an on-going conversation,” the Sheriff said to his son.

“Well, what are we suppose to do in the meantime?” Stiles was totally confused and it showed.

“Oh, I think the two of you will figure something out. See you later…” the Sheriff said, walking out the door and picking up his brief case and keys.

Neither Derek or Stiles moved. A major hurdle had been meet unexpectedly and overcome with relative ease, although Derek wondered just how much the Sheriff was aware of what was waiting for them out in the preserve.

It the stillness of the moment, the Sheriff’s car starting seemed louder than it should have and after he drove away, the two men were left in something of a vacuum which, after the events of the last 24 hours, was not unpleasant.

Finally, Stiles looked up at Derek and smiled slightly.

“Does he know?”

Derek put down his coffee cup and took Stiles in his arms. He let his sense of smell run riot over the boy, drawing in mingled whiffs of sweat, fear, joy, relief and the metallic scent of too little sleep. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said softly. Stiles started to object, but something in the way Derek held himself changed his mind. He only nodded and took Derek’s hand.

* * *

Derek pulled off Stiles’ shirt and ran his tongue down his neck and between his pecs. Stiles undid Derek’s pants and gently eased down his boxer briefs.

It was during these moments that Stiles goofiness evaporated, leaving an accomplished, sensitive young man who’s lack of hesitation in all matters supernatural extended to intimate matters as well.

While it was true the two men held deep affection for one another, their experiences in bed up until now had been more experimentation and play than lovemaking, though that’s what they called it. But now they both sensed that something had changed and it lent a quiet urgency to what was about to happen.

Derek eased Stiles onto the bed and pulled off his shoes and socks. His feet were moist and smelly, but it was simply his lover’s scent, as essential a part of him as his eye color or the shade of his hair.

Once undressed, Stiles pulled Derek down next to him, peeling off his t-shirt, pants and briefs. He lowered himself down, carefully matching the contours of their bodies, and then began kissing him slowly and deliberately, recognizing, but not admitting, that in a few days they could both be dead or savagely mauled and alone.

The realization overtook Stiles and his desire for the man he wanted to share everything with became unbearable to him and after they had teased and kissed and laughed at their inexperience with one another, Stiles reached into the bed-side table and drew out a condom.

He tore the packaging away and began to unroll it gently down Derek’s cock. Derek stopped him and sat up, cradling Stile’s head against his chest.

“Are you sure about this? Are you sure this is what you want?”

Stiles eased his head free and gave Derek a look he had never seen before, one of trust and contentment, expressive of the joy of being with that one person whose happiness was essential to his own.

“Make love to me, Derek,” was all he said.

When they had exhausted themselves, physically and emotionally, they curled around one another and fell into the deep sleep that only lovers at the edge of a precipice know. And that is how the sheriff found them. The sight of his often troubled son at peace and in the arms of his lover raised the hope that the difficult times were behind them. He quietly closed the door, content with the thought that, for now, everything was fine in the world.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles woke with a start and listened to the silence in the dark room.

“Derek?”

He felt around the bed, but the sheets were cold and he was alone. He stumbled across the room to his desk and found the lamp. He switched it on and looked around. He checked the time, 2:20am.

“Goddamnit, Derek.”

* * *

Allison found her father sitting in the kitchen reading the newspaper. He looked up at her and smiled a smile that always made her feel warm and safe, even now when they weren’t as close as they use to be. But he was still her father.

“How’s Lydia?” he asked, setting down a cold cup of coffee.

“She’s fine… a bit lost, I think, now that Jackson’s gone.”

“Has she heard from him?”

“Only that he’s in London.”

“That’s cinematic.”

Allison giggled over the fact that her father could still crack a joke and make her smile. She suddenly wanted everything back the way it had been and refused to consider any of the reasons it could never happen.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

Argent set down his paper and gave her his full attention.

“Why don’t we just pack some bags and leave here. Tonight.”

“Just the two of us?”

She nodded and half smiled. “Would you like that?”

“Honey, I’d like nothing better in the world.”

“So…”

“It wouldn’t solve anything… and we’d be dead in a week. We can’t just walk away from being Argents. It would follow us everywhere and we have plenty of enemies.”

“And…?”

“Whether you like it or not, you’re Gerard’s chosen successor. He’d use every resource to find you and get you back. Your grandfather has a very long reach.”

“Where is he, anyway.”

“I don’t know. Upstairs? It’s not my week to watch him.”

* * *

Derek had expected mounds of mountain ash around the house and the fact that there was none set his teeth on edge. Certainly Gerard didn’t think he could unleash demons on the town and no one would try and stop him. He wondered if it was all just some perverse game Gerard had cooked up to keep them all guessing. But if that were true, what was he really up to?

He leapt up on the garage roof and edged along the tiled peak to the wall of the house. He edged along the wall, using his sense of smell to hunt out the old man. He eased around a corner and smacked into Scott coming in the opposite direction. They both made to slash the other until they realized who they’d come up against.

“What are you doing here?” They both whispered at the same time.

“You told me to talk to Allison, remember?” Scott looked around to make sure there weren’t any guards within earshot. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to find Gerard.”

“Jesus, Derek, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did! I told you last night.”

“Where’s Stiles?”

“At home, sleeping.”

Scott’s phone beeped softly. He pulled it out of his pocket, his eyes on the glowing screen.

“Not anymore.”

“WHAT?” Derek grabbed the phone and studied the screen.

“I mean, he’s at home, but he’s not sleeping.”

“And he’s pissed. Damnit!” Derek handed the phone back to Scott. “What do we do now?”

“If he’s awake you should go back. Let me talk to Allison and see if I can get to the bottom of all this.”

“The bottom of all what?”

Started by the question both Scott and Derek looked up to find Peter gazing down at them from the roof above.

“What are you doing here?” Derek grunted.

“I came to help you, what do you think? By the way, you left a trail from Stiles’ house like a club-footed cow.”

Scott leaned back against the wall and sighed. “Jesus Christ, can this get any worse?”

“By the way, I brought reinforcements…” Peter seemed genuinely pleased with himself. He reached behind him and yanked up Isaac along side of him. The boy smiled like an idiot savant and waved happily.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Derek buried his face in his hands.

“This is one hell of a place for a werewolf convention. What are we going to do?” Scott was beside himself.

“Come down here,” Derek ordered. Isaac started to get up, but Peter pulled him back.

“Ah… better yet, let’s go over to your loft. We’ve got company.” Peter jerked his head up the street where three black 4x4s had just turned onto the street. As soon as he said it all the lights in the house went on.

“Shit!” was all Scott could say before an arrow whizzed past his head and stuck in the wall beside him.

The four of them darted off in different directions with arrows zinging past them left and right. Just before bounding off the roof Scott saw Allison running out onto the driveway, crossbow in hand. Their eyes met and for a brief moment Scott hesitated, but then Allison shouldered her cross bow and let fly. The bolt missed Scott by a millimeter.

Derek started off, but then doubled back. He crouched into the shadows and waited. One of the 4x4s eased up into the driveway and Gerard stepped out, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Amazing that they actually thought I’d be staying here. Derek’s getting predictable in his old age.”

Derek crouched in preparation of leaping off the roof and onto the old man., but the electrified lasso that suddenly dropped around his neck caught him unawares and before he could move he was paralyzed.

* * *

The group rendezvoused at Derek’s loft, but it took them a few minutes to realize that something had gone wrong and Derek wasn’t with them.

“Maybe he went back to get Stiles,” Scott said and tapped out a text.

“Where was the last place you saw him?” Peter asked Isaac.

“On the roof. He was right behind me when we bailed… Christ, you don’t think he stayed behind to find Gerard, do you?”

“Either that or to see what he could pick up from the conversations around the place.”

“Hey, Scott, did you see Allison? She was going to nail your ass, baby!” Isaac was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah. Tell me about it. I think we can cross off my talking to her about, well, anything.”

“So now what do we do?” Peter threw himself on the sofa and looked at Scott.

“Why are you asking me? You’re the Alpha.”

“That’s true. But I’m still recovering from coming back to life. It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“First things first. We have to find Derek.”

”I agree,” Peter said looking at Isaac for agreement. “And we have to do it tonight before Stiles does something extremely stupid.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Scott, feeling very worried all of a sudden.

“If we don’t rescue Derek, Stiles will try to do it and he’ll be like a bull in a china shop.”

“Why do you say that? Why do you keep picking on him?”

“Because he’s not one of us! Jesus, Scott what does it take to get that through your thick skull. Didn’t your relationship with Allison teach you anything? Lycans shouldn’t become involved with mortals. Simple. Stiles is going to out of his mind, because Derek has gone missing. But instead of thinking things through, being stealthful and cunning, he’ll behave like a typical mortal and go in with all guns blazing.”

“I think you’re exaggerating just a tiny bit…”

The door to the loft slammed back and Stiles walked in, seemingly cool as a cucumber.

“Did you find him?”

“No. We’re pretty sure the Argent’s have him,” replied Scott.

Stiles swung around and started back out the door.

“Wait! Stiles, hold up. Where are you going?”

“Do you want to come?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you. You know I will.”

Together they started out the door. Peter yelled after them.

“What about us, cowboy? What do you want us to do?” Peter was sniggering as he said it.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Stiles swung around, drew a pistol from under his shirt and fired off four rounds expertly placed into the back of the sofa just above Peter’s head. Peter threw himself against the back of the sofa so that it flipped over and Isaac with it.

“Sit there and shut the fuck up,” Stiles said through clenched teeth. 

“Ah… Stiles?” Scott’s eyes were as big as hen’s eggs.

“I’m sorry, but he’s just so fucking annoying!”

He grabbed Scott and hustled him out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Peter looked at Isaac cowering next to him. “I rest my case.”


	11. Chapter 11

“What in the hell are you thinking?” Scott was looking at Stiles like he’d never seen him before.

“Going to get Derek.”

“We don’t even know where he is!”

“Then roll down the window, stick your little werewolf nose out there and find him!”

“Stiles, you can’t just crash into…”

Stiles swung the jeep to the side of the road.

“Get out.”

“What?” Scott glanced around the deserted street. He wasn’t even sure where they were.

“Either help me or get out.”

“You’re not kidding are you?”

Stiles looked at Scott in a way that telegraphed immediately that he wasn’t in any way kidding. Scott rolled down the window and stuck his head out. He inhaled deeply the various scents of garbage, road kill, rage, desperation and, through it all, the slightest trace of fear and regret, a scent tinged with sweat, mildewing masonry and old paint.

Scott eased himself back onto his seat and pulled out his phone. Calling up a map app he studied the city layout, occasionally taking another whiff of what he hoped was Derek.

“Go to the end of the street and turn right.”

Stiles eased the jeep into gear and pulled away from the curb.

“Will you tell me what you’re going to do?”

“Get Derek.”

“Yes, I know that, but…”

“And then beat his little werewolf ass…” Stiles glanced at Scott and then back to the road. “Ok, maybe that part of the plan is still a little iffy.”

“There’s a plan?”

“Yes, Scott, believe it or not there’s a plan.” Stiles sighed as though he was tired of being the only one in the group who regularly engaged in critical thinking. “The Argents expected us to try and take out Gerard, and now that you and the rest of the Keystone Cops have made that play, I’m hoping they’re going to be less vigilant than they might be otherwise.”

“Ah… where does the gun fit into all this?”

“It doesn’t. At least for now.”

“I didn’t even know you had a gun.”

“I’m the hyperactive son of a police officer, Scott. Since guns tended to be around the house dad thought it would be a good idea if I understood them inside and out so I wouldn’t blow a hole in him, me or the cleaning lady.”

“You had a cleaning lady?”

Stiles shot an exasperated look at Scott, but after a moment he couldn’t help but smile at Scott’s efforts to calm him down.

“She didn’t stay very long. She thought I was possessed.”

“Turn left at the light,” Scott said checking his map.

“You’re not leading me in circles are you, McCall?”

“No, I’m not. But I wish I were.”

Scott held up the map for Stiles to see. He glanced at it and let out a sigh.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Stiles said. “So…”

“Let’s hope the Argents are totally focused on werewolves tonight and not quivering metrosexual humans…”

* * *

Derek was strung from the ceiling in the Argent’s basement, his manacles conducting just enough current to prevent him changing into something more formidable. He was bare-chested, his back covered with welts the electrical current kept from healing.

Gerard paced back and forth holding a piece of rebar, slapping it gently into the palm of his hand.

“Mr. Hale, I’m getting the distinct impression you know more than you’re letting on. Which means that your friends know more than we had hoped. This is very troubling, because I’ve tried very hard to keep everything as low key as possible.”

“Like tearing up half the preserve?”

“Perhaps we were a bit premature in laying out the henge, but come Saturday it won’t make any difference, because you’ll be dead and your pack will be destroyed.”

“Along with half the town.”

“Or more, if I allowed them to run wild. They do have that reputation. What’s unfortunate is that you won’t be around to see it…”

* * *

Scott tapped lightly on Allison’s window, ready to dodge an arrow or silver bullet and whatever else she chose to hurl at him. He could see her stir under the bedclothes, so he tapped a little louder.

Allison sat up suddenly, coming to full consciousness in a matter of seconds. She saw Scott silhouetted against her bedroom window, resisted the urge to blast him onto the driveway and instead got out of bed, walked to the window, starred at him briefly and them drew the drapes and started back to bed.

Scott tapped again. 

“Allison?”

The drapes flew back open much quicker than he expected and it was all he could do to keep from falling off the roof.

“Ah… open the window… please?

It would have been easy to seriously damage Scott… damage a werewolf… to put a finer point on it, a creature her family had been fighting for generations. And that was the point that unsettled her first, not that her ex-boyfriend was clinging to her window like some unappealing insect. 

If they’d been at it for generations they weren’t doing a very good job. Certainly, Beacon Hills seemed to have plenty of werewolves. Hell, they seemed to thrive in the place. Maybe it was time to try something else. Her watch was coming.

“Allison?”

Scott was using his human voice, guaranteed to send shivers up her spine. She hated him so much, but she also knew they weren’t finished yet. There were so many things left to say. She opened the window.

“You’re not coming in.”

“Alright.”

“What do you want? Are you alone or did you bring Laurel and Hardy with you?” She stuck her head out the window, just a bit, to look for accomplices. She caught a whiff of Scott’s smell as her hair grazed his chest. It triggered so many memories.

“No, I’m alone. Actually, I came to warn you.”

“Warn…?” She had to focus. “What are you talking about?”

“Stiles is coming to rescue Derek. I’m supposed to be the advanced guard, at least that’s the plan, but I don’t want him getting hurt. Maybe we can work something out?”

“Stiles? Why would he risk his life to save Derek?”

“He and Derek are lovers.”

“Stiles and…? You’re kidding me. What are you up to, McCall?”

“Nothing! Stiles is in love with Derek… stupidly, completely, unabashedly! Cross my heart. So he’s coming to save him.”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe this!” she giggled, pulling Scott into the room. “When did this happen?”

“About a week ago. Listen I’d love to chat more, but, well, Stiles will be here soon. I don’t want him getting his head blown off.”

Allison shook her head and sat down on the bed. “There’s nobody here, just Gerard, dad and me. After you all left, Gerard relaxed. He was sure you were going to pull something, just not something so half-baked.”

“I guess we didn’t cover ourselves in glory, did we?”

“No, Scott, I wouldn’t say so.”

Allison was laughing now, shaking her head. “Let me get dressed and we’ll go find Stiles and see what we can do. I can’t guarantee anything, but I think I can keep Gerard from doing anything drastic.”

“Ah, where is Gerard?” Scott asked, looking around like he expected to be set upon at any moment.

“In the basement with his star hostage. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She tiptoed down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom. As soon as she was gone Scott carefully withdrew his phone from his waistband and held it to his ear.

“Did you get all that?”

“Got it!” Stiles’ voice answered loud and clear. “Now get her out of there. Where did you say the key was?”

“Under the flower pot on the back porch.”

Allison emerged from the bathroom and Scott didn’t miss a beat. 

“Stiles, listen to me! Just hear us out. Allison will know what to do…”

Scott pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment. “He hung up on me,” he said in his best hurt bunny voice.

Allison took his hand and led him out of the room and down the stairs.

* * *

Gerard laid another savage blow on Derek’s back, opening up a large welt on his shoulder blade that immediately turned livid. He staggered back and ran his hand over his balding head, wiping away the sweat.

“Getting tired?” Derek grunted.

Gerard laughed and regained his poise. “Not at all. I can keep this up all night.”

The lights in the room flickered and went out.

“Now what?” Gerard asked in an irritated voice. Derek could hear him stumble around in the pitch black room, tripping over dried out paint cans and yard equipment. He finally found the far wall and felt along its length until he found the light switch at the bottom of the stairs. He flipped the switch and the first thing he saw when the lights came back on was Stiles standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Candygram!” was all Stiles said before laying a haymaker on Gerard’s jaw, sending him sprawling across the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Derek grunted at him.

“What do you think, Sourwolf?” 

Stiles wasted no time in shutting down the transformers and moving to free Derek’s hands. The welts on Derek’s back immediately started to dry out and fade back to normal.

“You shouldn’t have come. I was handling this.”

“Yeah, you were doing a great job. I guess you were just going to keep hitting that bar he was holding with your back until his hand gave out. Listen to me, Derek, you ever pull a lame ass stunt like this again and I’m taking my dad and moving to Montana and you’ll never hear from me again.”

Stiles finished freeing Derek’s hands. Immediately his arms dropped down around the boy. He pulled him close and kissed him hard on the mouth.

“Ok, maybe we can get together every spring equinox for old times sake,” Stiles whispered when Derek finally released him. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane, you know that?”

Derek kissed him again. “Let’s go home.”

Stiles started for the stairs, but Derek pulled him back. “Not without him,” he said, pointing at Gerard.

“Derek, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Then I have to kill him.” 

Derek leaned down and took Gerard’s head in his hands in preparation for snapping his neck, but Stiles pulled him back.

“No, Derek. He’s more valuable to us as a hostage then as a corpse. We can’t take him through the house… Open that window. I’ll go outside and you hand him up to me.”

Derek nodded and Stiles hurried nimbly up the stairs. On the top step he put his ear to the door and listened. After a moment, he smiled, looked back down at Derek and gave him the thumbs up.

He opened the door to find Chris Argent standing a few feet away pointing a Glock 9mm at his chest.

“Bring him up here very carefully,” Argent said quietly. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”


	12. Chapter 12

image

“So humans loving Lycans, is that all the rage now?” Allison kept her arms crossed over her chest so as not to provide any encouragement should Scott want this to be anything other than a quasi-rescue mission.

Scott looked at the sidewalk while he spoke. “I think they both needed someone, I guess in the end they’re lucky it worked out as well as it did.” He looked up and smiled at her. “But we were still the first.”

He was fully aware that they were performing a dance, him gently reaching out, hoping for some sort of reconciliation and Allison pivoting around him like a moth does a flame, attracted, but not wanting to be scalded.

“Where did you say Stiles was?” Allison asked. At that particular moment she didn’t really care where Stiles was, who he loved or if he bricked Gerard up somewhere out of the way the way Gerard had him. All she cared about was not letting the flood of anger, hate, love and care she held for Scott bursting out of her, leaving them both damaged and resentful.

Scott, of course, was oblivious to all of this. He had given up hope a while ago, but was still overjoyed at being alone with Allison, if only for a few minutes on a fabricated errand meant only to distract her. If he had had any hope left at all, he never would have agreed to deceive her.

“So what’s happing with Argent, Inc. these days? Your dad came to see me a couple nights ago.”

“He did? What about?”

“He said he was out driving around,” was all Scott said, not wanting to demolish him completely in her eyes.

“And, what, he just decided to drop in on the werewolf who seduced his daughter and killed his wife?”

“Harsh.”

She stopped and studied him for a moment. “You know how much I hate you?”

“Give it time…”

“And love you?”

“You… you still love me?”

“Believe me, Scott, if I could leave here I would. But I can’t. If only we could just be friends.”

“We could try… I mean, isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

She started walking again, arms still crossed, eyes down.

“So what did my father want?”

“He wanted to talk about the demons Gerard’s going to shit can us with on Saturday.”

Allison didn’t say anything, she just kept walking.

“He explained why he couldn’t help us.”

“I can’t either, Scott. Gerard’s still too powerful.”

“Would you, if you could?”

They arrived at Stiles’ jeep sitting cold and dark under a street lamp.

“Stiles!” Allison called gently. “Come out, come out wherever you are…”

* * *

Derek laid Gerard on the sofa, then turned to confront a 9mm loaded with silver and wolf’s bane.

“And now you can leave.”

“You’re just going to let us go?” Stiles asked, somewhat incredulous.

“Keeping you here would just cause more trouble than you’re worth. Every werewolf in Beacon Hills would try and rescue you.”

“So what, Chris? You want us to just wait around until Gerard unleashes God only knows what on Saturday?” Derek was calm and collected… always a bad sign.

“No, I want you to leave. It’s the only solution I can see…”

Derek started to speak, but Argent cut him off. “Short of killing my father and I can’t allow that.”

Stiles looked at both of them, at an impasse now and played his trump card. 

“How about this? You lock him up until after Saturday and then we’ll figure something out, a long term solution.”

“Why would I lock up my own father?” Argent was working hard to keep the grin off his face.

“Because we have Allison.”

Argent’s grin evaporated. “Allison is asleep upstairs.”

“Go and check,” Stiles urged. “We’ll wait and we won’t take your dad and drop him off a pier somewhere. That should telegraph how serious we are.”

Derek was looking at Stiles like he had lost his mind, but Stiles wouldn’t look at him.

“That won’t be necessary,” Argent said, looking thoughtful. “And if I don’t agree? You’ll… what?”

“I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along. But I do know that if you let him go ahead on Saturday and things turn out as bad as he’s predicted, there’s no telling what might happen.”

“You’re serious?”

“For fuck’s sake, Chris, will you wake up and smell the fucking coffee? This maniac is threatening to tear down half the town and most of my friends with it, not to mention my dad, and you think you can just sit on the sidelines and watch it all happen, wringing your hands and hoping for the best? Do you really think you can let a madman summon up demons from hell and ask them to behave? LOCK HIM UP! Then we’ll talk.”

A few months ago, if Stiles had spoken to him like this, Argent would have laid him out cold. But he knew he had invited such scorn and was actually surprised, or maybe disappointed, that it hadn’t happened sooner. Stiles was right, of course. He couldn’t just let it happen, with or without Allison.

After his wife’s death he’d turned in on himself and let Gerard run roughshod over everyone and everything. Not one for self-pity, he recognized that it was time to re-join the world and protect his small corner of it from his father’s insanity. And he knew in his heart that Allison would agree with him.

He set the safety on the Glock and laid it on the mantel. “Derek?” was all he said.

As Derek and Argent carried Gerard back down the stairs, Stiles pulled out his phone and called up Scott’s number.

“We’re ok,” Stiles said thoughtfully, knowing that trusting Chris Argent might be the wisest, or the dumbest, decision he’d ever made. “You can bring her back whenever you want.”

He hung up, then fell into a chair and cried.

* * *

Scott stuffed his phone back in his pocket and smiled at Allison.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Ah… that was Stiles.”

“Well, where is he?”

“He’s at your house.”

“My… Scott, he hasn’t done anything stupid, has he?”

No. No, as a matter of fact it may be one of his finer moments.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. I guess we’ll find out when we get back to your house.”

He held out his hand and after looking at it for a moment she took it and they started the short walk back to the house.

“Why do I have the feeling I’ve been played?”

“Mmmmm… didn’t someone once say that we’re all players who strut and fret their hour on the stage and then are heard no more?”

Allison stopped in her tracks.

“Shakespeare? You’re quoting Shakespeare?”

“Is that who it is? I’ll have to check my Cliff Notes…”

* * *

Derek walked Stiles back to his car and drove them back to the loft. Stiles had dried his tears and pulled himself together enough that he thought he could make it through the night and maybe even the next morning.

Derek, didn’t say anything to him, but looked at him a few times. Stiles would simply smile and then mention how suspicious the neighbors were going to be if Derek came home shirtless every night.

The loft was dark and quiet, but the sofa was still overturned. Derek regarded it suspiciously and then quickly flipped it over. No sign of Peter or Isaac, but the bullet holes were bigger and blacker than Stiles remembered.

Derek examined the holes briefly and then straightened up and looked at Stiles who was busily straightening and re-straightening the few items on the big wooden conference table.

“Stiles?”

The boy looked up from what he was doing, wearing his best, “What? I’m busy!” face.

“You know anything about this?”

Stiles shook his head and went back to his straightening. 

“Maybe Peter decided to play Russian Roulette.”

“And missed four times?” Derek raised an eye-brow, but Stiles wouldn’t look at him. Taking measured steps he walked up behind Stiles and gently turned him around. He lifted up his t-shirt and carefully pulled the gun from his waistband. He checked to make sure the safety was on and then expertly ejected the magazine. One by one he snapped the cartridges out of their case.

“Missing four,” was all he said. He picked up the pistol and sniffed the barrel. “And it’s been fired recently.”

Stiles started to say something, but Derek cut him off with a look. He laid the gun back on the table and took hold of Stiles by the shoulders.

“I thought you’re t-shirt looked a little bulky.” He turned Stiles’ face into the light and studied it closely. “And you’ve been crying.”

Stiles eased his head away and looked at the floor.

“If you weren’t such a sourwolf my life would be a lot simpler,” he said quietly.

Derek gathered him up into his arms.

“What you managed to pull off tonight was nothing short of a miracle. You may have saved all of us from God only knows what. And now you hate yourself for what you thought and what you said, because none of it was you. And you don’t ever want it to become you. Have I got that about right?”

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s shoulder and chocked back the tears.

“I meant every word I said.”

“I know that. And you think that makes you, what? An evil person?”

Stiles nodded into Derek’s shoulder.

“You’re wrong about that.”

Stiles looked up at him and wiped the tears out of his eyes.

“I guess it depends on your perspective. Are we finished for tonight, then?”

“Not quite.”

Derek’s kiss was long and passionate, reflecting another barrier broken down between them. 

“I love you,” was all he said when he’d finished.

Stiles only nodded. He looked around the shabby, comfortable room and then back at Derek. “You got a bed big enough for two in this place?”

* * *

Chris Argent was waiting in the doorway when Scott and Allison walked up the driveway. Scott held back and Allison turned a questioning look on him.

“I’m sure your dad can explain everything. I should probably go…”

“Come in, Scott,” Argent said evenly. “We have a lot to talk about.”


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles sat in bed watching the sunrise, cradling Derek’s head in his lap. He had promised himself that there wouldn’t be any secrets between them; that he’d never lie. In a young man’s way, he wanted everything to be perfect, not that it ever would be. Nothing was. But since meeting Derek and then falling in love with him, he had considered that perfection was something for which he desperately wanted to strive. Then he had turned around and lied to him that morning, but it wasn’t the lie or the casual brutality in which he had used Allison as an unwitting pawn that had caused his tears. It was Derek, or rather his love for Derek.

Stiles had realized as soon as he shoved the magazine home in his 9mm that he would do whatever was necessary to protect Derek. Lie. Manipulate. Even kill. And that realization had hit him hard, like a rock to the head. All his cherished thoughts on love and achieving perfect love were now all jumbled in his head. Did love trump morality? Wouldn’t a love that encouraged a criminal act or which hurt someone in order to survive and flourish, be judged as evil? 

He loved his father. He loved Scott. But he had never experienced love the way he did with Derek. The thought buoyed and terrified him. He knew, or at least strongly suspected, that Derek felt the same way about him and that was what lifted him up. The power of it was astounding. But he wondered if love could make someone unstable. If Derek ever left him, would he become the miserable, vicious ex-lover that wreaked havoc over everyone and everything?

With his toe, he gently pulled down the comforter covering them. There were days when he couldn’t stop looking at him. Sometimes when they were making love all he wanted was for Derek to pose naked for him, like he wanted to drink him up somehow. His toe drew the bedding down past Derek’s knees. He was smooth down to mid-thigh and then there was only a dusting of hair. His upper torso and buttocks were smooth, pale and hard like marble sculpted by Michelangelo.

Stiles took in his own legs, spare and hairy up to the top of his thigh. He moved his arms aside and surveyed his reasonable chest and trim mid-section. Soft tuffs of hair were sprouting between his pecs and from his belly button down to his bush. Where Derek’s hands were spare and strong, his were thin and expressive. They were opposites in almost every way. Derek could have had anybody, but he chose Stiles. And that was the real reason for all his actions the night before: to give of oneself, though it had not been asked.

But he had let Derek think what he wanted to think, and in a way that was also a way of protecting him. It kept Stiles’ burning intensity, still unsettling to him, away from Derek, at least for a while. Otherwise, he wanted Derek to second guess him, out-think him, ruffle his hair, ruin his sleep…

“I know,” Derek mumbled quietly into Stiles’ belly-button.

“Ah… You know what?” Stiles looked around like he expected to find the answer written on the wall or on the ceiling.

“That you love me beyond all reason.” Derek snuggled closer to him while his right hand searched for the comforter Stiles’ toes had run off with.

“Is this wolf-sense?” Stiles would be pissed if it were.

“No, dummy, I read it on Yahoo.”

“Oh… What?”

Derek laughed into his pillow. “Just kidding. We’re in love, Stiles! Stupidly, completely and beyond all reason. Don’t be afraid of it, embrace it… did you take all the covers again?”

Stiles reached down and pulled the comforter up over both of them, but Derek raised himself up on all fours so that Stiles lay exposed on the bed beneath him.

“What are you doing?”

“You think you’re the only one who enjoys looking at his naked lover?”

Stiles grinned and rolled-over, suddenly self-conscious and not a little embarrassed. “Don’t look at my moles!”

“I like your moles. I like your hairy butt, too.”

“My butt isn’t hairy!”

“Please! It looks like carpet layers have been here!”

Stiles moaned at the abuse and rolled over on his back to shield his maligned butt. He caught Derek’s dark eyes drinking him in, just as he had wanted to do.

“I love you, Stiles,” was all he said.

Repeating the phrase back seemed hackneyed and obvious, so Stiles let his eyes speak for him. “Believe that I love you; believe that I’m yours forever; believe in the joy you bring me…”

Derek understood entirely. He lowered himself down and gently kissed Stiles’ eyes and mouth. They fell into drowsy play, kissing and touching, intending to make their lovemaking better than the time before. But they hadn’t really slept in more than 24 hours and in-spite of all their good intentions, their exhaustion overtook them and they slept well past noon.

It was Stiles’ mobile phone that finally roused them. He dove into his clothes piled on the floor and finally found the thing somehow wrapped in his t-shirt.

“Dad?”

“I was calling to see if I should rent out your room or if you might be coming home sometime this month.”

“You’re just jealous,” Stiles said smiling.

“You’re right. I am, but I’ll get over it. I suppose you’ll expect me to pay for the wedding?”

“I think it’ll be more of a bus station affair catered by Oscar Meyer.”

“And cupcakes?”

“And sparklers in each one.”

“Sounds dangerous. Don’t know if my office can issue the necessary permits.”

“You’re already trying to skimp. I’m your only son.”

“And I thank God for it every day.”

“Don’t get sloppy with me, Sheriff. What’s up?”

“I think you better get down here to the cemetery. There’s something you need to see.”

“What?”

“Just get down here.”

* * *

The granite slabs were just as big as the ones in the preserve, but precisely placed around a neat and well cared for grave.

“It’s Kate Argent’s,” said Stiles even before he, Scott and Derek had reached the site.

“It looks like Chris was telling me the truth. The ones in the preserve are decoys.”

Unlike the preserve, there were only three stones, but each one was covered with glyphs, which made them seem more ominous than their blank cousins across town.

“These are Gerard’s calling cards, I presume,” said the sheriff.

“Yes,” said Stiles running his hand over the runic symbols. “Wait… how much do you know about all this?”

“Enough to know that if you and Derek hadn’t knocked some sense into Chris Argent last night, I’d be a lot more worried about these things than I am now.”

“You know about that?” Stiles was trying to figure out how that had happened.

“Relax, Stiles. He called me this morning to report his father missing.”

“He’s missing?” Stiles could see the nightmare starting all over again.

“Yeah, you know, Stiles. ‘Missing’.” Scott made sure to emphasis the word ‘missing’ with his fingers outlining exclamation marks.

“Oh. Yeah. Missing.”

“I’ve put out an APB on him, but I haven’t heard anything back yet. And… I don’t expect to.”

“Are you going to move these things out of here?” Derek asked.

“No. Argent has decided to leave them here in remembrance of his deceased sister.”

“You can’t order them moved?” asked Stiles.

“It’s his plot. He can put anything on it he wants. Why?”

“I think we’d all just feel better if these things were broken into a million pieces and dumbed in the ocean,” said Scott.

“Argent assures me that he’s taken steps to prevent his father being of any harm to anyone…”

* * *

Gerard Argent peeked through the wire mesh covering the windows of his cell. He measured the sun’s position using his watch face as a make shift compass. It took him a few moments to work out the arithmetic, but when he was sure of his sums, he started to laugh uncontrollably. He didn’t stop until his dinner arrived several hours later.


	14. Chapter 14

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2013

Gerard Argent stood squarely in the moon-light shining through the small window in his room. It was only foolish circumstance that placed his cramped cell, and this small window, in direct moonlight and provided him with the opportunity, perhaps his last opportunity, to destroy the three people he hated most in the world.

Slowly, one could say reverently, he removed his clothing until he stood naked before the full moon. 

“Außerhalb Steine! Durch euch rufe ich die Ulfhednar! Zerstöre diejenigen, deren Namen ich hier anbieten. Lassen Sie nichts aufhalten!”

Using a ball-point pen he had found deep inside the drawer of a small table he began to carve the name of the first victim deep into the skin of his left arm, deep enough for blood to flow freely from the wound, an important element of the spell:

“DEREK HALE”

Switching hands and swaying slightly from the pain, he carved the second name into his right arm:

“SCOTT MCCALL”

Falling to his knees, but still in the light, he grasped the pen now in both hands, slippery with his own blood. He laughed now, because this was the one he wanted to see suffer worse than the other two. He steadied himself, swallowing hard , and concentrated on each letter:

“S…”

He paused for a moment and closed his eyes. He thought long and hard, so long that when he re-opened his eyes he noticed that he was becoming dizzy from loss of blood.

“Stiles? Is that his first name? Or is that a nickname?”

The spelling and arrangement had to be perfect.

“Well, this is damned embarrassing…”

He considered if he had ever heard anyone call him by any other name… no, it was always ‘Stiles’. No, that’s what it was. It had to be. He continued carving the name into his abdomen, the blood pouring from the jagged letters:

“…TILES STILINSKI”

Blood pooled on the carpet under him and with a contented sigh he pitched forward, hitting his head on the wall and landing in the steadily growing pool.

* * *

An hour later at Derek’s loft, Stiles opened two beers and gave one to Derek. They toasted one another and then the rest of the group, Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Lydia and Alison. The music was loud and any number of empty bottles of various size, shape and flavors littered the floor and tables along with open pizza boxes. For now, at this particular moment, all was right with the world.

Stiles took a sip from his beer and caught Derek’s eye on the finish. Derek moved closer to him and took Stiles’ free hand in his.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

“What?” Stiles yelled back.

“I’m sorry. I love you, asshole!”

“That’s better…”

Stiles grinned and leaned in for a kiss, their mouths and tongues damp and cool from the beer… And that’s when the lights went out.

“Did you do that?” Stiles asked, still in smooching stance, but looking warily around the darkened room.

“No…” Derek straightened up and sniffed the air.

“LOOK!” Scott called out.

Through the large industrial window at the end of the room an eerie glow silhouetted the surrounding buildings of downtown. The glow pulsated a grim mixture of green and orange, and appeared to be growing.

Most of the surrounding buildings were dark, but the lights from the residential area between the cemetery and the downtown were bright and unaffected. The group gathered in front of the window and for a while no one spoke since they all hoped that their worst fears weren’t being realized right in front of them.

“That’s coming from the cemetery.” Stiles was the first to speak.

“No. No, you’re crazy. That’s too far north,” Scott said quietly. But he couldn’t take his eyes from the window.

A flash of bright blue dazzled for an instant and the rest of the lights beyond downtown blinked out.

"That was the sub-station just this side of the cemetery. Son of a bitch did it,” Stiles’ voice was weary. Almost resigned.

“How?” was all Scott could manage.

“There’s nothing but residential neighborhoods between here and there,” said Derek.

“And that thing is coming this way…” Stiles completed his thought. He took Derek’s hand and Derek pulled him close. He could hear Stiles’ heart beating a mile a minute.

“What thing?” Lydia asked, looking at each one in turn.

“Demons,” Scott said. “Gerard has summoned up demons to kill the pack.”

“What kind of demons?”

“Christ, Lydia, what difference does it make?” Stiles turned and looked at her daring her to answer.

Lydia met the challenge calmly and firmly. “Quite a bit actually. Demons are merely negative energy. The secret is knowing how to either short-circuit the energy field or convert the negative energy to pos…”

“They’re Ulfhednar,” Stiles interrupted.

“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Let me check some notes…” Lydia pulled out her phone and started typing something into the keyboard.

Scott turned to Allison and pulled her to him. “Go back home as fast as you can. Take Lydia with you. Find out where Gerard is and what he’s done… or we’re all dead.”

Allison nodded. She started to kiss Scott, but then thought better of it, took Lydia by the arm and hurried out of the room.

“We can’t wait,” Scott said looking at Derek.

Derek immediately turned to Stiles, but Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head back and forth emphatically. ‘Don’t even say it.”

Derek let out a sigh. “Let me give you The Bite.”

Stiles looked around at Boyd, Isaac and finally Scott. No one spoke or looked away. He thought for a moment and then looked back at Derek.

“No. I know it sounds crazy, but maybe, just maybe, there’s something a human will be able to do that werewolves can’t. And it will tip the scales. They’re coming for the pack, not quivering mortals.”

“You heard the man. Let’s go,” Scott said, gathering up his things and taking one last swig of beer.

Everyone filed out of the room. Stiles hung back until most everyone was out and then opened a drawer set into the massive wooden table. He pulled out his pistol and the magazine.

“STILES!”

“On my way!” He drove home the magazine and shoved the pistol in his waistband. Before he could get to the door his phone rang.

“Dad?”

“Don’t come down here, Stiles! Understand? Don’t come down here!”

“Dad, tell me what’s happening.”

“I can’t, son. I… I’ve never seen anything like this. They’re… Jesus God, don’t come down here…”

“Stiles?” Derek poked his head around the corner.

“It was my dad,” Stiles said looking at his phone. “Something screamed and the line went dead.”

“Your dad?”

“No. Something not human.”


	15. Chapter 15

The first responders were dead. Their smashed and burning vehicles littered the road coming from the cemetery and their bodies were strewn about like smashed dolls. In the background, the cemetery was a smoldering wreck, a clear indication of what the town would look like if the Ulfhednar were able to break through the police line.

Sheriff Stilinski had pulled his men back to the first intersection after the cemetery, his first, and last, line of defense. 

Stiles’ jeep skidded to a stop and Stiles was out of the driver’s seat before it stopped moving. “Is my dad out there?” he shouted, frantic, to no one in particular. “Is my dad one of the guys lying out there?”

Derek caught up to him and pulled him back from the line of police cars blocking the intersection.

“Goddamnit, Derek, let me go!”

“Stiles! What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay away. Derek get him out of here.” The sheriff’s face was ashen and covered with soot. Like everyone else he was clearly overwhelmed.

“We know how this happened, Sheriff. We can help,” Derek told him. Stiles was giving him a look of supreme annoyance, but he ignored it.

“Are you going to tell me this is Gerard’s doing?”

“Absolutely. We just have to find out how he did it and if there’s a way to stop it. Allison is checking on that now.”

Scott and Isaac pulled up behind Stiles on Scott’s motorcycle and ran toward them.

“Christ!” said the sheriff, running his hand through his hair. “Is the whole damn high school coming up here?”

“No, dad… just the werewolves.”

The sheriff looked at his son and then at Derek. “I knew about Derek, but… you?”

“No,” Stiles said shaking his head emphatically. “Gay, but not gray… that came out wrong…”

“Here they come!” someone on the line shouted. Everyone rushed to the barricade and waited.

Through the smoke and flames three Viking youths emerged from the smoke, their backs and helmets covered with the full-body skins of wolves. Handsome, muscular young men, they were armed with shields, spears and broadswords, and though as un-demonic looking as they could be, it was clear from their expressions on that they were there to kill.

“So, what, these are the Abercrombie and Fitch demons?” Stiles was obviously unimpressed.

But then a change occurred. As the youths approached, their mouths were forced open and their heads pushed back as clawed hands emerged from either side of the gaping mouths and ferocious, withered gray skinned beings pushed their heads out through the hyper-flexed jaws and screamed fire at the jagged line. Derek yanked Stiles down just as a wave of flame washed over the crouching defenders.

“Ok! That’s better. That’s what we wanted to see,” Stiles said, checking he and Derek for any tell-tale signs of fire.

The police opened fire and though it was plain the Ulfhednar were struck several times, the bullets passed through them with no effect. The demons screeched and the deformed youths lurched forward, beating their swords on their shields.

Now Derek was up on one of the cars, transformed, snarling at the demons’ approach. He was soon joined by Scott and Isaac. Stiles wondered where Peter had got to, but he wasn’t surprised. Peter always thought it wise to let other do his fighting for him, but Stiles wasn’t so sure there would be any “others” left when this was over.

Derek and what pack he had leapt onto the roadway and rushed the Vikings, who proved to be remarkably agile in spite of weapons, armor and cumbersome demons. The grays retreated into the Viking bodies like tank commanders retreating into their turrets, showing themselves only when they wanted to spit fire at the pack.

That it was a one-sided fight from the beginning there could be no doubt. Though Derek broke limbs and splintered skulls, the damage was rectified instantly. The werewolves had their own recuperative powers, but they responded much, much slower than the vicious demons. After sustaining several serious injuries, the pack retreated to re-group and consider their options.

The sheriff joined them while the demons surged relentlessly forward. “Now what? I’ve called up the National Guard, but I don’t think they’re going to be much help.”

“No, just more bodies,” Stiles said, sticking his head up to see how much time they had.

“Allison is here!” Scott called out. The Argent’s 4x4 glided to a stop and Allison jumped out with quivers and bow followed closely by Lydia who carried several books.

“Great! We’re getting the shit kicked out of us and Lydia brings a library.” Stiles was obviously hoping for a miracle.

“Is there a problem?” Lydia asked.

Stiles made to explain to her exactly what the problem was, but just then from the back seat of the 4x4, Chris Argent produced a bandaged and stumbling Gerard steadying him on the pavement.

“Maybe now we’ll get somewhere,” Scott said running toward them. Derek, Stiles and Isaac followed.

“He somehow managed to cast the spell from the cell in the basement,” Argent told them. “When we found him, he was covered in blood and he’d carved your name into one arm, Derek. Scott, he carved your name into his other arm. And Stiles, he saved the best for you. He’s gouged your name into his stomach. If you have any questions for him better ask him quick. He’s lost a lot of blood and I don’t know how long he’s going to last.”

“You told Allison you could control them,” Scott yelled at him. “How?”

Gerard slowly raised his head and grinned at Scott. His face was pale and his eyes bulged out of his head like a crazy man’s. “By giving them Allison, of course.”

“Jesus Christ,” was all Chris could get out before Scott grabbed Gerard and pulled the old man up face to face.

“You better be making this up!”

“Not at all, Mr. McCall. You don’t have any idea what you’re up against, do you?”

“Actually, we do,” Lydia was looking at him the same way she might regard a toad. She turned to Stiles. “Like I said, if they’re demons, they’re negative energy. In this case the negative energy is being pulled from the Id of the persons whose names he carved… into himself.” Lydia had to screw her face up at the thought, but she recovered quickly.

“What’s out there are the products of your sub-conscious. The instinct of destruction your Ids direct at the outer world. Your mindless primitives.”

There was a crash behind them and they turned to find the Ulfhednar forcing their way through the barricade of police cars, slaughtering everyone in their path.

Stiles looked back at her, white faced. “So how do we stop them?”

“You can control them. It’s your Id that’s feeding them. The more you fight them, the stronger they become. You have to convert the destructive instincts into life instincts.”

“Easier said that done, little girl.” Gerard’s grin was barely human.

“How…” Stiles began, but she brought him up short. 

“Eros, Stiles. The harbinger of life… and love. Get it?”

Stiles grinned at her and then yanked Derek out into the no man’s land that was developing between the ruined police barricade and the Argent’s 4x4. As soon as they stepped into the open they were noticed. They became homing beacons for two of the three monsters and the demons slowly emerged from their hosts ruined mouths and grinned at the thought of this perfect opportunity.

“I don’t know if this is going to work,” he said, taking Derek’s face in his hands. “But right now I am a frightened man. Be with me…”

He closed his eyes and began kissing Derek, holding nothing back. All his inhibitions fell away, knowing that they could both easily be ash in the few seconds left to them. Derek responded in kind, grabbing hold of Stiles and holding him for dear life. 

In Derek’s arms, with death imminent, Stiles became transformed. The bullying, the taunts, his fears and confusion melted away. And for Derek it was the same. Secure in Stiles love, his self-doubt became first a shadow and then a phantom, and the same thing began to happen to the demons confronting them. In the face of love and conviction their fuel evaporated and them along with it. Within minutes, one had dissolved completely and the other staggered to his knees, the demon slowly withering inside his host.

Allison grabbed Scott and with as much conviction she began to kiss him. And as Scott accepted her as freely as she gave of herself, his demon began to sputter and die.

Gerard watched the proceedings with total dismay. He fell to the ground, covering his face with his bound hands and wept bitterly at the humiliation being forced on him at the hands of a group of children. Being incapable of love, he failed to understand its power and he was laid low by the ease with which his exquisite revenge was demolished.

Sheriff Stilinski watched his son in his werewolf lover’s embrace. There wouldn’t be any more secrets now. After tonight, everything would be different, if for no other reason it would be impossible to cover up what had happened here. He began to walk toward Derek and Stiles.

Stiles saw him coming over Derek’s shoulder and he gently pulled away, grinning at him, the way he would when he was a child and his father came home from work. Derek turned and he could tell there would be no contests between lover and father for his son’s love. Somehow, out of all of the death and destruction, life had won out and they had survived.

“Hey dad! He didn’t even know my real name. But I guess as far as demons go, Stiles is as good as…”

The Ulfhednar spear smashed into Stiles from behind and exploded out his front, demolishing his sternum and rib cage. The smile froze on his face and he looked down in dis-belief at the odd instrument suddenly protruding from his chest.

Everything went into slow motion. He pitched forward, blood gushing from his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Derek rushing to catch him, the words, ‘OH NO!’ forming out of anguish and surprise. His father, running now; Allison screaming and burying her face in Scott’s shoulder while his best friend looked on in uncomprehending shock.

There was no pain, even when he hit the ground and the impact forced the blade back out the other side, leaving nothing but a gaping hole in his slender chest. The fading demon, his desire for death and chaos complete, continued sinking into the pavement, strangling on his own bile. The last thing Stiles remembered seeing was Gerard staring at him across the pavement, laughing at having recouped some remnant of the hate he held for the boy that ran with wolves.

It started to rain.


	16. Chapter 16

The blade had missed his heart, but there was massive damage to his lungs and cardio vascular system. His vision failed and he was having trouble breathing. He was aware of Derek turning him over, frantically trying to staunch the flow of blood with his hands. People were shouting his name. He reached up and touched Derek’s face, feeling the tears streaming down his cheeks and from the shape the face took, he realized that Derek was terrified and Stiles knew that in a few moments he would be dead.

From a long way off he could hear his father yelling at Derek. “Do it, Derek! Just do it! There isn’t time…”

He was sinking into a wonderful softness. His panic at not being able to breathe was easing and he began to float away to someplace he realized he had always wanted to go… more than home, a place of pure energy and joy, without trouble and without fear.

The flash of pain snapped him back to earth like a strong rope yanking him back from a warm, welcoming sea. His left arm was on fire and it was getting worse. He sat up and his eyes popped open, his vision clearer than it had ever been. He could hear his own pulse and that of the people around him. He found he could identify them from their scent. And there was something wrong with his mouth. He reached up to see what it was, but Derek gently pulled his hand back.

“Just let it happen, Stiles. Don’t fight it…”

Stiles realized that Derek had a firm hold on him and he relaxed back into himself. He could breath again and he felt an incredible warmth coming from the middle of his chest… coming from where there should be a gaping hole.

“His fur is silver,” someone said.

He held up his hands. They were silver. And his fingers were longer than before, his claws amazingly sharp and reflective. Suddenly he felt more powerful than he ever had and he became aware of flexing muscles in his thighs, arms and abdomen. He couldn’t sit there any longer and with a ferocious roar he was on his feet.

People jumped back, but he found himself caressed and petted by Derek, Scott and Isaac. Finally he belonged. He wasn’t an outsider anymore and wouldn’t ever be again. He was powerful, confident, warm and, above all, safe.

He was Pack. He was Lycan.

* * *

“The only reason I can think of is that he was mortal when he was wounded.” Dr. Deaton was closing a medical bag. He looked over his shoulder at Stiles asleep in Derek’s bed. His mid-section and left arm heavily bandaged. Thankfully, he’s strong and he has a tremendous will to live. He knows he’s loved.

Derek looked at Stiles and then across the table at Sheriff Stilinski.

“Will he live?” the sheriff asked.

“Oh yes. But he may never heal completely. We’ll just have to wait and see. The sedative I gave him will be wearing off shortly. Don’t let him move around too much or eat anything other than clear broth. If he gets worse, call me immediately. Otherwise, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“What do you make of the silver fur?” Derek couldn’t take his eyes off Stiles.

“Something that only happens once in a thousand years. He’s going to become very powerful, Derek.”

“What aren’t you telling us?”

Deaton thought to himself for a moment and then smiled at the sheriff and Derek. “Nothing that will in any way take away from the task at hand or threaten his continued recovery. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After Deaton left, the two men sat quietly together for a while. Eventually, Derek looked up at the sheriff.

“Thank you,” was all he said.

“For?”

“Some fathers would have rather their son died than…”

“…seen him made into a werewolf?”

Derek only nodded.

“I hope I never meet them.”

The sheriff took a last pull from a coffee mug sitting on the table in front of him and then got up to leave.

“You’re welcome to stay. He’ll be awake soon.”

“I think the first face he should see when he wakes up is yours. “

“It might be better if he saw both of us at once.”

“I have something I need to take care of. I won’t be long… maybe a couple hours… then I’ll be back. In the meantime, take care of him for me. Okay?”

Derek smiled and walked the sheriff to the door. “I guess there are a lot of loose ends to tie up,” he said.

“The devil is in the details,” the sheriff replied. He shook Derek’s hand and left.

Derek walked back to the bed and stood looking at Stiles. He didn’t pray; werewolves seldom do. But he did thank whatever werewolf gods there were that they had both survived. He blinked away the tears and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, Stiles was watching him from the bed, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

"Derek, can I have some water?"

Derek brought a glass and gently cradled Stiles’ head so he could drink. Stiles took a sip and then another. He looked at Derek and then lifted his good hand and wiped a tear from Derek’s cheek.

“What time is it?” Stiles asked.

“10:30 Sunday night.”

“Then come to bed, Sourwolf. I have something I want to tell you.”

* * *

Across town, Gerard struggled against the ropes that bound him to a particular water pipe in a particular abandoned coal bunker. Several wraps of duct tape around his mouth reduced what screams and cries there may have been to a raspy, high pitched hum.

“I had scarcely laid the first tier of my masonry when I discovered that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off,” Scott read. It was an old, worn copy of “The Cask of Amontillado” he had borrowed from Lydia. “The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth…”

Scott sat on a broken-down chair while the sheriff expertly laid row after row of brick into the opening of the nitch.

"You’re really good at that,” said Scott pausing in his reading.

“Thank you, Scott. This is how I worked my way through school when I was about your age. I’m going back to Derek’s loft after this. You want to come?”

“I’d love to. Erm… did you leave him any water?”

“No,” the sheriff responded, lifting the last brick into place. “I didn’t see any reason to be cruel.”

THE END

The story of “The Wall” continues with:

"No Special Hurry"


End file.
